


red sunset glow

by sehnsvcht



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1980s, Coming of Age, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-12 16:32:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 35,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11740899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sehnsvcht/pseuds/sehnsvcht
Summary: If someone had told Kyungsoo that all it takes to shut Baekhyun up—and, maybe, get over his fears—is one simple, one scary kiss, maybe he would have tried it sooner. Maybe.





	red sunset glow

**Author's Note:**

> Prompter, I am so sorry I ran away with your prompt like I did... I do hope you enjoy this nonetheless.
> 
> A lot of this was inspired by the tVN drama "Reply 1988." Title inspired by the song of the same name by Lee Moonsae. A thousand thanks to Sarah for the help through every little step of the completion of this fic!
> 
> Written for prompt #008. Enjoy!

Baekhyun’s mind is racing—just like his heart—and he’s not exactly sure where he is anymore, or how he got there, or even what day it is.

There’s a crowd surrounding them. Though they’re hidden in the shadows, and the music blares loudly from the end of the room, making it impossible for anyone to hear, Baekhyun panics. He’s lost, he’s terrified, he doesn’t understand the stir of feelings inside his guts.

What if Chanyeol finds them like this? What if Jongdae—who knows everyone in the neighborhood, literally—hears about it, from someone in the mass of bodies around them? What if—

He doesn’t know. Baekhyun knows nothing.

The only thing he knows, for sure, is the press of Kyungsoo’s lips against his own.

Those pretty, thick, carefully carved lips, always too red for Baekhyun’s liking—he’s taken an immense pleasure, lately, of watching them stretch into a smile, a scowl, a pout, or just sit quietly on Kyungsoo’s face, serene and beautiful, entrancing.

He’s not used to them, however, pressing against his own—not at all, far from it; in fact, Baekhyun isn’t even used to Kyungsoo _talking_ all that much. He usually takes care of their conversations almost on his own, shouldering and guiding them and letting Kyungsoo simply smile along to his constant rambling.

He usually doesn’t mind, far from it—Baekhyun thrives under it, loves being the object of Kyungsoo’s attention, adores being the reason of his smile. Stories come to him, in that case, almost instantly—it’s just so easy, with Kyungsoo. Words flow out of his mouth and he starts talking so fast he doesn’t even remember what he’s saying, but then Kyungsoo is there to remind him of it, to ask him about one little detail and Baekhyun is at it again, flourishing under Kyungsoo’s genuine curiosity.

But right now—right now, Kyungsoo is the one taking matters into his own hand, leading him. Baekhyun is stunned, as Kyungsoo’s lips press almost insistently against his, parting slightly to let way for a short exhale against his mouth. He thinks he can hear a sound catch in Kyungsoo’s throat, but he’s not sure, because those lips are back on his again, and words—just like his thoughts—escape him.

And Baekhyun, helpless and terrified, melts into it, and kisses him back.

 

* * *

 

“Kyungsoo-yah!”

Kyungsoo closes his eyes and sighs.

It’s Friday evening, dinner time is nearly there, and so most likely, if his mother is calling him from the depths of the kitchen where she spends most of her time, it’s certainly because—

“Kyungsoo, darling! Would you mind making a quick detour to the Byuns? We’re out of bean sprouts!”

“What kind of Korean household runs out of bean sprouts,” he hears Seungsoo mutter from his side of the room. Kyungsoo thinks his brother makes a point.

He closes his books, aligning them neatly against the edge of the desk and making sure his sticky notes are still in place, before getting up and picking up his SNU jacket—or rather, his brother’s—and exiting his room. It’s a little big on him, but it’s warm, and he’s only going to be out for about five minutes, at most.

“I’m going!” he throws to whoever might be listening. Walls have ears, they say, and it’s certainly true in a tiny house like theirs.

Kyungsoo always shouts his departure before actually putting on his shoes and leaving—simply because he knows his mother will always (really, _always_ ) find something to hold him back before he actually steps outside.

He slips on shoes that fall a little too big on him—they’re probably Seungsoo’s as well—just when his mother interjects, “Not just yet! Wait here, darling, I’ll prep something for Baekhyunnie’s mom.”

Kyungsoo finds it funny how Baekhyun’s mom is not referred to as _Baekbeom’s mom_ anymore—she hasn’t been in a while, in fact, just like his own mother is now known as _Kyungsoo’s mom_ , not _Seungsoo’s_ , and so on.

Junmyeon’s dad is a case of his own—it’s simple, really. Junmyeon’s an only child.

Kyungsoo sees his mother emerge from her kitchen, eyes warm, her apron slightly damp and her sturdy hands holding a small dish covered in foil. “Here, there you go. Tell her to come by tomorrow, while you’re at it, eh? We’re playing cards, tomorrow, the lot of us. That woman had better not forget again.”

“Yeah, mom,” he replies easily, a small chuckle making it past his lips. “Is that all?”

“Yes, now, go, go, go,” she shoos him away, her steps already taking her back to the kitchen where she came from. “Dinner’s almost ready, so you’d better hurry!”

Kyungsoo is still smiling when he steps outside. The air is a tiny bit chilly, the late September air growing colder as days go by, especially this late in the evening. He shivers slightly under his jacket. He’d better make quick work of this.

The alley is only lit up by the three working streetlights out of the six lined up along the houses. It has been this way for as long as Kyungsoo remembers—which probably dates back to when he first noticed, one evening when he had just turned ten years old, when his mother decided he was old enough to run those little errands and that it was time to give Seungsoo a break. That was nearly eight years ago, in 1981.

The little light casts warm shadows across the dirty alley, drenching everything in dark tones that almost make it impossible to walk without a light. However, Kyungsoo has done this over five thousand times now (or something; anyway, it’s not like he’s been counting, really), and so his feet carry him to the Byuns’ doorstep with little trouble despite the darkness.

His feet are cold when he approaches the door. He should have worn his own shoes.

He knocks three times. “It’s me! Kyungsoo!”

It takes about two seconds before scrambling can be heard on the other side of the walls, quickly drowned by Baekhyun’s voice that shouts, “I’ll tchake it!”

Merely moments later, Baekhyun pokes his head out of the door, eyes smiling and cheeks round with food. His shirt falls a little too low on his chest, revealing pale skin stretching over straight collarbones. Kyungsoo looks away, bringing his eyes back on Baekhyun’s.

“Hmph! Kyungshoo, hey. Joining ush for dinner?” his friend says, mouth full, very typically Baekhyun-like. There’s something green poking out of the corner of his lips. Kyungsoo smiles.

“Nah, I’m eating at home tonight,” Kyungsoo declines. He steps inside when Baekhyun opens the door a little more as he swallows his bite, toeing off his shoes quickly. “Do you guys have bean sprouts? We ran out, it seems.”

“Mom! Kyungsoo’s mom wants bean sprouts!” Baekhyun turns to shout towards the hall that makes most of their tiny flat. His voice rings too loud across the tight walls, but it’s not like any of them isn’t used to it by now, anymore. The people living above the Byuns are the Kims (the original Kims), and if Jongdae’s family was ever bothered by Baekhyun’s loud voice, they would have said something, by now. It’s been nearly twelve years.

And, it’s not like Jongdae is in any better shape, really.

When he looks back to Kyungsoo, Baekhyun points to the plate in his hands. “Kimchi?”

Uh. Good question. Kyungsoo brings the plate to his nose, sniffing under the foil cover. “Mmh, yeah, definitely kimchi.”

Baekhyun grins at the reply. “Ah, you’ll say thanks to your mom from me, huh? She makes the best kimchi around these parts. Mom could use some lessons from her, honestly.”

“I heard that!” a voice calls from the kitchen. “And Kyungsoo, sweetheart, I’ll there in a moment; just hang on, okay?”

“Sure thing!” Kyungsoo replies. Next to him, Baekhyun is still staring, head tilting and eyes narrowing at him. “What?”

“You,” Baekhyun tuts, shaking his head in disapproval. His tongue comes out to lick at the corner of his lips, green goo gone. Quickly, Baekhyun replaces his tongue with his fingers, tracing the edges of his lips distractedly. “You were up studying at that hour, just now, huh? Poor soul, you are.”

“Baekhyunnie, it’s dinner time,” Kyungsoo deadpans. “That’s respectable time to study.”

“‘ _That’s respectable time to study,_ ’” Baekhyun repeats with a terrible imitation of Kyungsoo’s deeper tone, if Kyungsoo’s honest. Chanyeol does a better job at it, but Kyungsoo would never admit to that, either. “You’re going to dig your own grave with those books, Soo.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Baekbeom’s voice says. When Kyungsoo looks up, he finds the older stepping into the hall and heading towards his and Baekhyun’s room, barely giving them a glance over his shoulder. “It’s not because Baekhyun can’t study for his life that you shouldn’t, Kyungsoo-yah.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Kyungsoo says, smile persisting when Baekhyun scowls at the back of his brother’s head.

“Don’t look so proud,” Baekhyun mumbles. “Honestly though, your head is gonna fall off your shoulders with how much you try to fit inside it these days. It’ll get too heavy or something.”

Before Kyungsoo can reply, Baekhyun’s mother pops out of her kitchen, with not one, but two plates in her hands. “There you go, son,” she says as she hands them over, taking the kimchi plate from Baekhyun’s hands.

“Oh, Mom,” Baekhyun whines, “ _I’m_ your son. You don’t have to make it so obvious that you want to replace me.”

“Then do a better job at being my son, would you?” she throws back with a roll of her eyes. When she turns to Kyungsoo, her gaze softens. She has Baekhyun’s eyes—or maybe it’s actually the other way around, Kyungsoo realizes. “We had some extra spinach in the fridge, make sure you eat it well, huh? Spinach is good for kids like you.”

“Yes, mom,” Kyungsoo says, which makes Baekhyun pout next to him. “Are you coming over tomorrow? My mom wanted to remind you that you guys are playing cards, or something.”

“Oh God, that’s right! Tell your mom for me that I’ll be there. I’ll make tea!”

Kyungsoo nods, and bows. “We’ll eat this well,” he says, motioning to the plates in his hand. “Have a good evening!”

“You too, Kyungsoo darling!” she says, her gaze warm.

Baekhyun’s eyes are identical, albeit a little more mischievous, when Kyungsoo glances at him. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Like I can escape you,” Kyungsoo retorts. “See you, big head.”

On his way back, he sees Jongdae march up to the (other) Kims’ household, two plates in hand, not unlike Kyungsoo’s own. His cat-like smirk shines under the faint streetlight, and Junmyeon’s disgruntled half-smile still manages to look charming through his handsome features.

When he makes it back home, bean sprouts and spinach left where they belong in the kitchen, Kyungsoo makes a beeline for his room. After giving a long stare at his textbooks, he shrugs, and moves to his backpack. He takes out the novel he’s been devouring for the past three days— _The Alchemist_ —and puts it next to his blankets on the floor for him to pick up after dinner. The memory of Baekhyun’s smiling eyes dances behind his eyelids, for some reason he cannot comprehend.

***

It’s uncertain, how the five of them have grown so close over the years.

Or maybe, the circumstances were just so perfect, so obvious that, on the contrary, it was simply impossible for them not to grow as close as brothers, the way they did.

At first, it was their older siblings, who used to fill the alley with their yells—Baekbeom and Jongdeok’s shenanigans were known to every household that had its door to the alley, and they would sometimes drag along an easily impressionable, innocent, and much younger Seungsoo with them, when he grew old enough to tag along with the pair. Yoora, for her part, would find herself somewhere between scolding them and being scolded unjustly, as adults would often presume she was just as much part of the trouble as her two older friends.

Since Baekhyun, Jongdae, Chanyeol, and Kyungsoo were all around the same age, it was truly inevitable for them not to be friends—not when they’d see each other day and night, at school and in the alley, and more often than not, at each other’s houses, too. It’s been this way since they were toddlers, or maybe it was predestined. Kyungsoo wonders, sometimes.

Junmyeon found himself joining along, despite being a year older, a little against his will at first—it was Chanyeol who first dared them to ring the rich guys at the end of the alley, some summer afternoon when they were all around seven. Junmyeon had opened the door, delighted at the sight of kids about his age, though a little shy under the four pair of wide eyes that had stared back, expectant and probably a little too curious for their own good.

“We can come in and play, right?” Baekhyun had asked boldly and proudly, because Baekhyun has always been this way.

And Junmyeon had nodded slowly, and soon enough, Junmyeon’s room—and his house, and his very heavy supply of food—became the gang’s prime gathering spot. Junmyeon constantly acts bothered by it, especially as they grew older together, but they all know, Junmyeon included, that he truly doesn’t mind—in fact, he basks in the attention, and is willing to open his door to his friends, any time.

They make quite the group, the five of them—Baekhyun and Chanyeol’s energy often goes beyond the average person’s expectation, and add Jongdae’s mirth to the mix, and you get a terrific trio to deal with. They’re a menace, the lot of them—especially with Baekhyun’s never-ending monologues and Chanyeol’s too-loud laugh and Jongdae’s constant bickering.

At first glance, Kyungsoo and Junmyeon might not fit with the three—except they do, because as much as he sometimes despises it, Kyungsoo has taken a liking to Chanyeol’s boisterous grin and Baekhyun’s quirky wit, finding himself filling in the gaps one some rare occasions with his deadpan humour and spontaneous personality. Junmyeon, on his part, revels in his friends’ overflowing charms while adding in some of his own—mostly, his peculiar humour, that has Jongdae groaning and whining some more and Chanyeol in stitches.

It’s undeniable that there are some dynamics, between the five of them, that work better than others. Kyungsoo and Chanyeol have known each other the longest, and so there’s very little that doesn’t get shared between the two. It’s the same for Baekhyun and Jongdae—though, Jongdae and Junmyeon also have this push-and-pull friendship that’s oddly strong and very particular, distinct to them two, and Baekhyun and Kyungsoo are often regarded as rather close, too; maybe because they each bring out the kinder, more reserved parts of each other out for the world to see.

Or so Kyungsoo thinks. Hopes. He isn’t sure.

They’re an odd bunch, the five of them—but that’s just how they work, and Kyungsoo wouldn’t have it any other way.

***

Every Wednesday, they meet up for tteokbeokki after school. Sometimes, they even skip their study period for it—when they manage to convince Junmyeon to do so, anyway.

This week, it seems, Jongdae wants to turn their weekly tteokbeokki gathering into some sort of gossip session.

“Did you hear?” he whispers theatrically—meaning, he speaks loudly with a faux air of secrecy. Kyungsoo barely looks up from his food, picking at the rice cakes with a distracted hand. “Someone rented the haunted house on the other side of the alley. We’re getting new neighbors soon, guys.”

“It’s _not_ haunted,” Junmyeon says.

“We’ve lived here for longer than you did, hyung,” Chanyeol manages around his food. There’s red sauce smeared all across his face. Kyungsoo hands him a napkin in silence. Chanyeol takes it with a grateful smile. “For real, though. It’s haunted, Jongdae’s right.”

“Who would rent a haunted house?” Baekhyun asks. Unlike Chanyeol, he makes a job of dabbing the edges of his lips with his fingers, before smearing the sauce on his fingertips onto his own napkin. Kyungsoo doesn’t stare. “They’re probably not from around here, then. No one wants to live in a haunted house. Especially not one that’s rumoured to have witnessed murders and—”

“It’s _not_ haunted,” Junmyeon repeats again. “You guys have to stop watching so much TV and acting like kids about these things, honestly.”

“And be no fun like you are?” Jongdae retorts. “No, thank you. Sheesh. But anyway, you guys are missing the point here—new people. Now _that’s_ exciting news!”

“Is it?” Kyungsoo asks honestly. Sometimes it feels as though there’s too many people, crammed in the tiny houses of their tiny alley in Ssangmun-dong, with voices that ring too loud even at night and faces he sees a little too often.

Some faces, he isn’t tired to encounter. But he doesn’t see the appeal—nor the excitement—at the prospect of even more people crowding their little neighborhood. There’s nicer parts to Seoul, anyway.

But Jongdae nods his response enthusiastically, before swallowing his bite hastily. “You guys—what if a _girl_ moves in?” At the unimpressed silence that meets his words, he presses on. “Come _on_. We haven’t had some decent eye candy since Yoora-noona started dressing like an old lady because of her new job—”

“Hey!” Chanyeol cuts, a little too loud. Kyungsoo doesn’t stop him, though. “That’s my older _sister_ you’re talking about!”

“Relax,” Baekhyun rolls his eyes. “We all know she’s secretly dating Beom-hyung anyway. Aren’t they, dear brother-in-law?” He winks at Chanyeol, who winks back, while still fixing Jongdae with a menacing puppy stare.

“We don’t actually know that,” Jongdae insists. “She might still be single, for all we know.”

“That’s unlikely,” Junmyeon muses. “She’s too pretty to be single, honestly.”

“Guys,” Chanyeol brings his hands over his face, smearing more red sauce over his skin than covering his embarrassment, Kyungsoo thinks. “Please. _Stop_.”

“You guys are getting too excited too fast,” Baekhyun sighs. The rice cake he’s poked with his toothpick dangles dangerously from the tip. Kyungsoo catches it with his own and eats it before Baekhyun can protest, but the older barely flinches. “Whoever bought the house might not even have kids. Maybe they’re an old couple from Busan, or something. Maybe they’re from the countryside. Maybe they’re runaways from the North—”

“Now _you’re_ getting carried away,” Kyungsoo interrupts. The food is spicy against his lips; he licks them quickly before speaking again. “We’ll just find out whenever they move in, right? Whoever it is.”

“I’ll pray for my new romance,” Jongdae says reverently. “I need to start dating, you guys. I’m _eighteen_. Soon enough I’ll enter university and then I’ll have to get married and what if I don’t have a stable relationship by age, like, twenty-five? I don’t wanna end up like Beom-hyung and since Yoora-noona—”

“Don’t say another word,” Chanyeol cuts, just when Baekhyun says, “What’s wrong with my brother?”

“Kids!” Junmyeon sighs. “It’s already six. Just finish eating, already.”

“Did we decide on who’s paying?” Chanyeol throws.

They all know it’s a strategic question. As soon as it’s out, silence falls upon their table, and heads slowly turn to Junmyeon, who stares them back with an unimpressed look. “Seriously? Again?”

“You’re loaded,” Baekhyun replies easily with a shrug. “What’s a couple thousand wons when you have millions to spare, am I right?”

“I’m not as rich as you think me to be, Baekhyunnie,” Junmyeon mumbles.

“Now, if that isn’t the most pretentious thing I’ve ever heard you say, hyung,” Jongdae snorts. “Thanks for the snack, though! You’re the best, Junmyeon-ah!”

“Call me that again!”

Jongdae only laughs, running away from the restaurant before Junmyeon has even the time to stand up from his seat. Baekhyun and Chanyeol follow, Kyungsoo watching them retreat just as fast, Baekhyun’s hair flowing with the autumn wind outside in dark, soft flocks.

Baekhyun’s hair is pretty. Like his mouth and his dainty fingers that often trace around his lips dangerously close, too close, sometimes.

A mouth that speaks too much and often gets carried away with its words, but it’s Baekhyun’s, and so Kyungsoo has learned to appreciate it—even find a liking to it, with time.

“Hyung,” he says, voice more firm than it sounds in his head. His thoughts are still far away even though his motions are probably more assured than he is. “Here, I’ll pay half.”

“It’s fine, Soo,” Junmyeon’s voice resonates. When Kyungsoo focuses his eyes on him, he’s smiling, handsome and soft. “You’ll pay next time, yeah?”

They both know Junmyeon will pay the whole bill next time, too, but Kyungsoo nods nonetheless, and they exit the store together, catching up with their friends.

***

Sometimes, the voice at the back of Kyungsoo’s mind is very adamant about reminding him of how dangerous Baekhyun can be.

The thing is, Baekhyun is a whirlwind of just _so much_ , all at once, bursting through Kyungsoo’s bedroom door or latching onto his arm on their way to school. He’s energy and sunlight all packed into one person, burning so bright and so warm Kyungsoo sometimes wonders how he hasn’t gotten a burn from it yet.

Baekhyun has never-ending stories to share, constantly. His voice almost always sings when he speaks, and Kyungsoo doesn’t mind sitting back in silence, letting the words wash over him, letting him talk and talk some more as he listens, quietly, enraptured. Sometimes, Baekhyun will tease words out of him and Kyungsoo will relent, but really—he would much rather simply watch Baekhyun cast his light and spell out his melody, but he can’t let him know that.

Baekhyun’s light, Baekhyun’s melody, they do things to Kyungsoo like steal his breath away and squeeze at his heart, making butterflies erupt in his stomach and twisting something rooted deep in his guts—just like his touch sometimes makes spark shoot up his limbs, simmering and sizzling under his skin, and Kyungsoo knows the meaning of it all.

He knows, and it’s terrifying.

Kyungsoo can’t afford it, can’t afford to love Baekhyun the way he does, no matter how good it tastes and feels, even if he knows, deep down, it isn’t about to change anytime soon. But he has to hold on to something, something like common sense that makes him feel like he isn’t in complete disarray, most of the time.

Though his thoughts are clouded with doubt, though his heart acts up and makes him feel too happy at times, Kyungsoo isn’t doing too bad. No matter what it is that makes his inside twist and turn the way they do at Baekhyun’s sight, it remains that he has a friend in him—just like he does in Jongdae, in Chanyeol, in Junmyeon. They’re the best of friends, the four of them.

And friends, sometimes, get ice cream on weekends, from Old Man Seong, on the nearby main street.

“What are you getting?” asks Baekhyun, peering his head inside the freezer facing the shop, his grabby hands already reaching inside. “I think I’m gonna go for that chocolate swirl thingy.”

“Do they have any vanilla-flavoured ones? Just, like the simple stuff.” Kyungsoo is a simple man, even if his emotions are far from being simple.

Baekhyun hums, rummaging through the contents of the freezer. “They have… vanilla and chocolate. Vanilla and peanuts and chocolate. Vanilla and strawberry. But wait, let me dig a little deeper—”

“I can do it on my own, you know, Baekhyun,” Kyungsoo says. He moves next to Baekhyun, who now has the upper half of his body engulfed inside the freezer. “Isn’t it cold, down there?”

“I’m almost—oh! I think I got it, Soo!” Baekhyun stands up abruptly, brandishing the frozen treat with a triumphing smile, wide and boxy and too big for his face. “ _Jjajan!_ I knew they would have your bland vanilla stuff down at the bottom.”

“It’s not bland. It’s simple.”

“Simple _is_ bland and boring. I live for the excitement, hence why I’m getting the cool swirly chocolate stuff.”

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes, but he takes his ice cream nonetheless, and grabs one chocolate swirl cone for Baekhyun, too. “Fine, let’s go.”

He makes a quick job at paying inside, and they’re back at the front of the store only moments later, sharing the bench by the door as they eat their snack.

“What’s your favourite ice cream flavour?”

Kyungsoo stares at his own cone. “Vanilla. Isn’t it obvious?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you were just feeling particularly boring today. Didn’t know it was a regular thing.”

“I’m not boring.”

“I’m not saying you are,” Baekhyun rolls his eyes. “I’m just saying you have boring favourites.”

Kyungsoo scoffs, but says nothing. Vanilla ice cream melts and slides down his throat, sweet and cool, refreshing despite the chilly early autumn air around them. Next to him, Baekhyun swings his legs under the bench they’re seated at, licking at his treat eagerly.

Baekhyun has a pretty mouth—pretty _lips_ , and—

“They should make, like, rainbow ice cream,” Baekhyun ponders. There’s chocolate smeared at the corner of his lips, and Kyungsoo has to look away. “I wonder how that would taste like.”

“Probably terrible,” Kyungsoo grimaces. “And it would probably be expensive, too.”

“I’m sure they have those in Gangnam,” Baekhyun says. Another bite of his snack. “They have everything over there.”

“Give it a couple years, and you might find yourself there,” Kyungsoo says. One more bite of bland, boring vanilla ice cream.

Bland, boring, like the studies he’s killing himself with every night and every weekend, that’ll land him into some bland, boring, yet promising and well-paid field, that’ll in turn maybe get him a place in Gangnam, too, and Kyungsoo stops himself before thinking about what comes next.

Baekhyun grimaces. “Mmh, doubt it. You’d probably need to do some proper, 9-to-5 job, suffocating in a cubicle to afford living in Gangnam, right? Or something as equally unpleasant, or worse, even.” Cutely, he scrunches up his nose. Kyungsoo acts like he doesn’t notice. “No, thank you.”

Then, a question that arises from more than just trivial curiosity comes up to Kyungsoo. It might be something he’s asked himself before—simply because Baekhyun is that intriguing, that odd yet charming, that he couldn’t help but just _wonder_. “What do you plan on doing for a living, then?”

He almost regrets asking when Baekhyun doesn’t answer immediately. It almost feels odd, not having Baekhyun jump right back at his words with some of his own, probably greater in numbers and wittier, too. But no; right now, Baekhyun is at a standstill, and it might just last a few seconds, but it’s something Kyungsoo isn’t used to.

Then, Baekhyun sighs heavily, and Kyungsoo holds his breath. “I don’t know. Is it bad that I still don’t know, even though I’m a senior in high school? I feel like it is bad, sometimes. College entrance exams are coming up, after all. I’m not exactly worried, but…” A pause. “I don’t know what I’m doing, you know.”

His voice is so small like this, despite him aiming for nonchalant. Kyungsoo isn’t sure he likes that tone. He’s long forgotten about his own ice cream, and he can feel something sliding down his palm, cold and sticky with sugar.

Wordlessly, Baekhyun hands him a napkin, and Kyungsoo takes it. When he looks up, he finds Baekhyun looking at him with a tiny smile, but his eyes are lost far, far away. Like a lot of times before, Kyungsoo wonders where his thoughts have taken him.

“If I could…” he starts, “I think, if I could, I would just take off and see the world. I have to find someone who is willing to pay me to do that, is all.”

“Good luck with that,” Kyungsoo mutters. In his head, though, he thinks it fits Baekhyun so well—him, and his eagerness to take the world by storm, in all ways possible.

Kyungsoo might have to stay stranded by the shore, watching Baekhyun sail away. He doesn’t know how that tastes against his tongue.

Baekhyun’s smile grows, loses its scared edges. Kyungsoo breathes a little more freely. “Imagine all the food I would eat! All the things there are to see out there; all the people I would meet and talk to.”

“Not everyone speaks Korean, you know.”

“I would find a way to make myself understood,” says Baekhyun determinedly. He doesn’t even roll his eyes at Kyungsoo’s remark. That’s a first. “You should know that about me, by now. I’ll conquer the world one day, you’ll see. No need for college to do that, right?”

“You’re right,” Kyungsoo sighs. He doesn’t finish his ice cream, and doesn’t miss the way Baekhyun eyes it with hungry eyes. He hands it to his friend, who picks it up quickly with a broad smile. “Baekhyun-ah.”

“Mmh?”

“Don’t forget me when you’re out there, seeing the world.”

Baekhyun stops in his movements, stares at Kyungsoo, immobile. Unable to sustain his gaze, Kyungsoo turns to stare straight ahead, though he still feels Baekhyun’s eyes on him. Maybe the spontaneous honesty thing is something Kyungsoo should work on. It makes him sound heartless and ruthless at times and completely lacking in others—or, like now, it makes him seem smitten and too sincere for his own good.

But then, he hears, _feels_ Baekhyun smile next to him—the sudden exhale of breath, the rustle of his clothes as he squirms on his seat, the tiny pleased hum that gets stuck in his throat. “How could I, Kyungsoo, since you’ll be there with me through it all?”

“ _What?_ ” Kyungsoo turns to Baekhyun with wide eyes, who bursts out laughing, bright and loud.

“Hey, relax! We both know you’d murder me after five hours in my presence. You don’t have to act so terrified.”

What Baekhyun doesn’t know, is that Kyungsoo’s fear doesn’t stem from spending extended periods of time with him—if anything, that would count amongst Kyungsoo’s top desires, at the hour—but rather, the fear of being found out for wanting that exact thing. It’s odd, how things work out.

***

As it turns out, the new kid on the block is not female, which leaves Jongdae to be an unbearably sulky mess, face down against the carpeted floor of Junmyeon’s room.

Though the mystery of its ghosts has dimmed in comparison to the newfound identity of its newcomers, it turns out the only child of the family moving in the infamous haunted house down the alley is tall—not as tall as Chanyeol, but still taller than the rest of them—and Chinese, and very much handsome.

Not that Kyungsoo knows anything about handsome. But he thinks that if it were to be… anything, well. The new guy would be it, surely.

“Do you think he speaks Korean?” asks Chanyeol from where they’re sitting in Junmyeon’s room. His face is pressed against the window, right next to Baekhyun’s. “What a shame if he doesn’t.”

“People can learn languages, you know,” Junmyeon sighs from the floor, his back against the wall. Kyungsoo chuckles next to him, not once letting his eyes steer away from his book. Junmyeon’s dad got them new comics, and he and Junmyeon are the only two in their group of friends truly capable of appreciating them. “We could teach him.”

“You’ll regret saying that,” mutters Kyungsoo.

Just as he finishes speaking, Baekhyun snickers. “Hyung, do you really trust Chanyeol to do that?”

“Hey! I would make an amazing teacher.”

“You’d teach the poor guy absolute nonsense. He wouldn’t learn Korean, but Chanyeol Dialect, or something.”

“If it were a long-legged, beautiful hottie, I would give you a hand, but…” Jongdae sighs, and then, groans. He turns to lie on his back, eyebrows tilted up towards the center in a way that’s almost caricatured. “There’s enough boys living in this alley, for heaven’s sake.”

“There’s Yoora-noona,” Baekhyun says, throwing a smirk over his shoulder at Jongdae. Kyungsoo catches it anyway. His eyes shine bright, bright, bright, and Kyungsoo has to look away, rolling his eyes and going back to his book.

“No,” Chanyeol’s voice cuts, sharp. “There’s _no_ Yoora-noona and I will remind you once again that she’s my _older sister_.”

“She is, and so she’s able to fend for herself, Chanyeollie,” Jongdae says. “Whoever she dates—and I really mean, _whoever_ —will come down to who she chooses, and you’ll have no say in it, little brother status be damned.”

“I fucking know that, but ‘ _whoever_ ’ definitely doesn’t include you, I’ll make sure of it,” Chanyeol mutters. The fog of his breath sticks to the window panes. “She thinks you’re whiny anyway.”

“Did she really say that?” Jongdae springs to his feet, eyes wide with horror. “Oh my God, that’s _so_ embarrassing.”

Junmyeon sighs. “No offense, but you never had a chance with her anyway, Jongdae.”

“Oh, _hyung!_ ”

Before Jongdae can continue, though, Baekhyun’s voice jumps, before he moves away from the window in hurried steps, hands moving excitedly around his face. “Guys! Guys, guys, guys, guys, guys—”

“Baekhyun, Baekhyun, Baekhyun, Baekhyun—”

“ _Chanyeol,_ ” Kyungsoo pleads. Being friends with three idiots is a pain. He’s lucky he has Junmyeon, even if the older can be a little awkward and clumsy at times. “What is it?”

“The new guy, he’s about to—”

Before Baekhyun can finish his sentence, though, the sound of the bell resonates through the house. Junmyeon’s family is rich enough to afford a doorbell, Kyungsoo remembers.

Suddenly, the room falls silent at once, and even Jongdae’s expression has gone from overly hurt by Yoora-induced feelings to genuinely curious and a little surprised. “Is that him?” he asks, voice low.

“Yeah; yeah, that’s him,” Baekhyun confirms, nodding slowly. “Hyung?”

Junmyeon’s eyebrows raise up to the middle of his forehead at Baekhyun’s address. “What?”

“This is your house, you know,” Chanyeol shrugs, moving away from the window to stand next to Baekhyun. The Seoul ‘88 shirt he’s wearing is a little tight around his chest, maybe it’s actually one of Kyungsoo’s, or Jongdae’s. “You should probably open the door. Introduce yourself. Him. Us. Everything.”

“Why is it _my_ job?” Junmyeon whines, and he uses the same tone Jongdae uses to get what he wants, albeit a little softer in tone, and Kyungsoo represses a smile at the thought.

“‘Cause you’re the oldest, that’s why.” Baekhyun reaches out, grabbing not only Junmyeon’s hand in his left, but also Kyungsoo’s in his right, and pulling them both up on their feet. Kyungsoo stumbles, and he has to bring his hands against Baekhyun’s arm not to fall over. “Let’s not keep him waiting, yeah?”

They must make quite the picture, when Junmyeon opens the door, all five of them staring up at the newcomer who’s still standing on the other side of the doorframe, smile kind and eyes showing just a little bit of his fear. Kyungsoo admires his apparent courage. He doubts he would find the strength to just ring up a new neighbor on his first day in a house in a country that seemingly wouldn’t be his.

From up close, he’s even more handsome—or whatever it is that he _is_ —than Kyungsoo had thought. Sharp lines curving at the ends, with a nice nose slope and plump lips; Kyungsoo should probably halt his thoughts, but there’s nothing wrong with detailing beautiful things when presented to him, right?

Junmyeon is still holding the door handle, and Baekhyun has to push his way to the front of their little crowd to strike up conversation. “Welcome to Korea,” he says, vowels slow and articulate.

“I—um,” the boy stutters, smile turning tight-lipped, and Kyungsoo notices a deep dimple, from where he’s staring above Baekhyun’s shoulder. “Thank you. And, you know, you don’t have to… speak like that. My Korean isn’t _that_ bad.”

“What’s your name?” Chanyeol asks.

“Yixing,” the boy says proudly. “Zhang Yixing. Nice to meet you—I mean, all of you.” His smile turns sheepish. “I honestly didn’t think I would find so many people, when I rang up this house to say hi.”

Kyungsoo smiles softly, and decides to speak up. There’s something about the honesty of Yixing’s eyes that pushes him to talk. “You’ll get used to it. That’s how things work, around here. You’re stuck with these idiots, now.” A shrug. “And me.”

“You’re as much of an idiot as we are, idiot,” Jongdae retorts. His voice rings louder than the rest of theirs, as it always does. Yixing’s eyes cut sharply to him, but it’s full of wonder, not annoyance. He’ll fit right in with them, Kyungsoo thinks. “Welcome, Yixing… wait, how old are you?”

“You can’t just _ask_ that, Jongdae,” Junmyeon chides. He nods towards Yixing, offering one of his polite smiles. “Yixing-ssi, wanna come in? We can do the whole introduction thing in the living room.”

“Ugh, formalities,” Baekhyun shudders, and Kyungsoo can tell he scrunched his nose at the way his shoulders lift just a little. He hides his smile behind Baekhyun’s right shoulder.

Yixing nods his agreement, and they all head to the living room. As usual, Jongdae and Baekhyun sit on the floor, because they don’t seem to understand the use of couches. Yixing is slightly stiff in his seat, and Kyungsoo tries not to stare, because he’s been told countless times by Baekhyun that his gaze can get intimidating and a little unsettling even if he doesn’t mean it to.

They should probably have gone back to Junmyeon’s room. This would feel much less formal and much less awkward; but then again, this is Junmyeon’s house, and Junmyeon’s manners are as awkward as the boy himself.

“I’m Junmyeon, by the way,” he introduces. “That’s my house. I live here with my dad.”

“You live in this house by yourself with your dad?” Yixing asks, mouth open in a tiny ‘o’ as he speaks. His eyes quickly scan the room around them, bright and reminding Kyungsoo of Baekhyun’s, a little; if not just a little dimmer.

Junmyeon nods, then shrugs. “My dad’s a doctor, so. We’re okay, I guess.”

“He’s rich, is what he means,” Baekhyun snorts. “I’m Baekhyun, by the way. I’m probably younger than you, so I’ll call you hyung and you can just call me Baekhyunnie. Most people do. And this is Kyungsoo,” he says, turning to him as he says it. Kyungsoo has to hide his slight surprise. “I’m introducing him because he’s probably not going to do it himself.”

Kyungsoo scoffs. “That’s a lie—”

“Sure, but hey, I’ve done the job now, yeah? You’ll thank me later.”

“Stop it, with the married couple banter, Christ,” Chanyeol says. Kyungsoo pulls his tongue at him. “We have a guest.”

“I don’t—I don’t mind,” Yixing smiles, eyes shifting between them. “You guys seem like a very… dynamic team. It’s nice to see.”

“They’re a mess,” Kyungsoo chimes in. When Yixing catches his eye and smiles, Kyungsoo smiles back, knowing. “But you’ll get used to it.”

“Do you have a sister, Yixing-ssi?” Jongdae asks, and everyone—Yixing excluded—groans loudly.

“That’s Jongdae for you,” Chanyeol says, placing a placating hand on Yixing’s shoulder, and Kyungsoo sees the shadow of a relieved smile on the boy’s lips, “and I’m Chanyeol. Welcome to Ssangmun-dong, Zhang Yixing.”

***

Zhang Yixing fits in surprisingly well—so much so that Kyungsoo starts to wonder if _he’s_ not the odd one out, after all.

In a matter of weeks, Yixing worms his way into their lives, almost seamlessly—they run into him more often than not in the alley, and soon enough, he joins them at school too, ending up in the same class as Junmyeon. He even manages to tag along to their weekly tteokbeokki meet-ups, and seems to enjoy the food even more than Chanyeol does—and Chanyeol _loves_ tteokbeokki.

It’s charming, though, how Yixing seems mystified and entranced by everything, so much so that he often looks spaced out in his thoughts at the sight of anything remotely interesting. It’s kind of endearing, if Kyungsoo’s honest. He knows, too, that he isn’t the only one to think so—it’s as though all of them have found something about Yixing that they find a certain liking to, which makes it so easy for Yixing to just… click with them.

Chanyeol strikes up a conversation with him once, and discovers they both have a strong interest for music—Yixing shares stories about how Western music has always fascinated him, while Chanyeol tells him all about the glory and talent of Im Jihoon and Lee Sooman while Jongdae yells about Sobangcha being _“the true stars of this generation, obviously.”_

Jongdae isn’t immune to Yixing’s charms, though—especially not when Yixing finds himself in stitches at every joke Jongdae makes, which not only boosts his ego, but also makes him smile and laugh along, truly endeared by the older. Yixing’s calm aura is a blessing for Junmyeon’s headaches as well, and Kyungsoo notes that Junmyeon’s smiles come easily, with Yixing around.

And of course, there’s Baekhyun. Baekhyun, who’s fascinated by Yixing, with whom he fits even more than Yixing fits with the lot of them, it seems. Yixing is drawn in by Baekhyun’s light—Kyungsoo can’t blame him for that—and Baekhyun basks in the attention, and there seems to be a complicity shared by the two of them that Kyungsoo finds… well. Maybe he’d like to have something like that, with Baekhyun, too.

Then again, the too wide boxy smiles and crinkled eyes, Kyungsoo still gets them the most. The annoying ice cream outings—that are more and more turning into simple walks, and nothing more, because it’s getting a little too cold for ice cream these days—are still something only Kyungsoo gets to share with Baekhyun. Though they’re not exactly best friends, and even with Yixing in the picture, Kyungsoo reassures himself that maybe, surely, he and Baekhyun still have something that’s very much _them_ , and nothing else, with no one or nothing to take that away from them.

He hates to think of what it means, but he can’t help but hold on to it.

***

“You’re watching TV?” Seungsoo asks, incredulous, from the hall where he’s just come in.

“Yeah?” Kyungsoo turns his head to him, too lazy to actually lift it and only rolling it on the side, against the couch. “What does it look like I’m doing, then?”

Seungsoo stares back for a moment, running a distracted hand in his short hair, before he regains his senses and speaks again. “That’s a first. You’re, like, not studying, for once. Good job, little brother.”

Kyungsoo swallows. That’s the problem, actually—he’s _not_ studying, because he can’t get his mind to it because there’s just so much in his head even though it feels like there’s _nothing_ there. He gets like this, sometimes, a lot of the time, almost all the time—like everything is just too much for him to actually focus on anything, like everything is just… a big, blurry blob of confusion, and it adds on to everything else—whatever that might be—and Kyungsoo finds himself unable to do anything.

Bland, boring studies. Books and words that have no meaning—all so different from the novels that keep piling up on his bedside table and the shelves of his room.

(He’s reading _The Trial_ , lately. Kafka has always been somewhat of a weird, distorted genius to Kyungsoo, ever since he’s read _The Metamorphosis_ in barely under two hours, some afternoon.)

But Kyungsoo can’t afford to waste so much time on those, though he’d like to get lost in those fantasies rather than constantly worrying about formulas and dates that mean nothing to him. Kyungsoo doesn’t let himself get lost in fantasies often.

He doesn’t know why the ghost of Baekhyun’s presence haunts him, in those times—or maybe he does, but he doesn’t want to understand it.

“I just needed a break,” Kyungsoo explains, turning back to the television. “I’ll go back to it eventually.” _Bland, boring_ , his mind chants.

“Myeonnie is outside, if you wanna hang out with him, or whatever,” Seungsoo throws. He’s taken his shoes off, by now, and is making his way to the kitchen, grabbing orange juice from the fridge. “With the new kid. What’s his name again?”

“Yixing,” Kyungsoo provides. “He’s been around for weeks, now, hyung. You should know better.”

“Whatever,” his brother mumbles. “Go get some air, little brother. It’ll freshen up that head of yours, I know how you can get when you’re too damn stressed to study.”

Kyungsoo bites back a smile. He easily forgets, sometimes, how observant his brother is. How much he loves him. “Will do, hyung.”

“Good,” Seungsoo replies, glass of orange juice in hand. He stops in front of his bedroom door. “It’s really nice, outside. You should grab the kids and go play soccer, or something.”

Kyungsoo raises an eyebrow. “Grab the kids? What am I, a babysitter?” He scoffs, but he’s already leaving the couch, because maybe his brother is right. “I’m the youngest of them all, too.”

“You don’t act like you are,” retorts his brother. “But hey, you’d make a great babysitter.”

“Piss off,” Kyungsoo scoffs, but he’s hiding a smile as he puts on his shoes.

“Don’t talk like that to your hyung!” Seungsoo’s smile is apparent in his voice as well as he disappears into his room, and Kyungsoo’s heart eases.

Outside, Yixing welcomes him with a short greeting, a warm smile, and a touch to his forearm, and Kyungsoo represses the slight shiver that goes down his spine. Junmyeon cuts through the hello’s and asks immediately, “You’re not studying?”

“Do I really seem _that_ boring to you all?” Kyungsoo sighs. He kicks a rock at his feet, or he thinks he does anyway. _Bland, boring_. _Plain_. His two friends are seated against the front steps of Junmyeon’s house, seemingly doing nothing but spend time in each other’s company. Sounds nice enough. “You’re the second person to ask me that in like, under five minutes.”

“You’re not boring,” Yixing amends. Kyungsoo looks up to find him smiling, still, eyes crinkled against the sun and tiny dimple showing in his cheek. He’s all sorts of adorable, and there’s something else to his charm that Kyungsoo cannot pinpoint but that makes him stare nonetheless. “You’re just very… what’s the word? Diligent?”

“Yeah, diligent,” Junmyeon agrees, smiling. He’s smiling so much, lately.

“Diligent, yes, in your work,” Yixing says, smiling back, before turning to Kyungsoo. “That’s admirable, Kyungsoo.”

Kyungsoo chuckles. “You’re a flatterer, Zhang Yixing.” He shoves his hands inside his pockets. “Anyway. You guys down for soccer? I’ll go fetch the others.”

“They’re all at Jongdae’s,” Junmyeon mutters, scoffing. “And probably _very_ busy.”

“Oh?”

“Junmyeonnie said something about tapes?” Yixing throws, and Kyungsoo groans. Not the _tapes_. Jongdae’s fascination is a little upsetting, sometimes.

“God, not _again_ ,” he mutters. “I’m definitely gonna get them outta there.”

Junmyeon throws him a cautious look—no, not cautious; awkward, uneasy. “Are you sure? I mean, what if they’re like, _really_ into it, or something—”

Kyungsoo snorts. “Jongdae has watched so much porn in his life he’s already probably immune to it. Chanyeol is too easily impressed to actually _do_ anything about any situation he might find himself in, and Baekhyun…” He doesn’t know what Baekhyun is like when faced with that stuff, actually. He usually keeps quiet, watches almost with wonder, and Kyungsoo has often wondered if he was just enjoying it differently than the rest of them.

Then again, Kyungsoo has never really—

Anyway. “Baekhyun’s probably spaced out,” he settles on saying.

“Oh.” Yixing’s mouth has the same shape. “So _that’s_ what the tapes were.”

“Yeah.” Junmyeon is now crimson red, and he stands up quickly, brushing off the dust from his pants. “We’ll just—we’ll meet you at the field?”

“See you there,” Kyungsoo chuckles, and doesn’t spare a glance towards his friends as he makes his way down to the Kim’s (the other Kim’s) house. He can hear Yixing giggle, though, and Junmyeon mutter incessantly, and supposes Yixing has finally found pleasure in teasing Junmyeon.

He knocks, and doesn’t bother announcing himself—he can already hear the panicked scrambling occurring in Jongdae’s room, the hushed conversation between Jongdae’s insistent voice and Chanyeol’s hollowed out one, and the snicker of Baekhyun’s. It takes thirty seconds, and a dishevelled Jongdae—not from any sort of exertion and strictly from shame, Kyungsoo hopes—answers him.

When he sees Kyungsoo at the door and no one else, he groans. “Kyungsoo! You have _no idea_ what you’ve just interrupted.”

“Actually, I do, and I’d rather you spared me the details, honestly,” Kyungsoo sighs. “Anyway. Soccer in five? Junmyeon and Xing-hyung are already there. I’ll give you guys time to, um.” He looks down, raises an eyebrow at the apparent tent in Jongdae’s pants. “Take care of your issue, I guess. Honestly, _how_ can you watch porn this early in the afternoon, and not only that, but with your _friends?_ ”

“Why can’t _you_ , is the question,” Jongdae retorts, and Kyungsoo tries to take delight in the slight blush now dusting his friend’s cheeks rather than the flush that takes over his own. “Actually, why aren’t you studying?”

 _Plain. Bland, boring_ , because Kyungsoo studies all the time and his wit is underrated and he can’t watch porn with his friends because it feels _weird_ , Christ. “I’m not answering that. I’m starting to believe none of you actually appreciate me.”

“I do!” Baekhyun chirps, appearing suddenly from somewhere behind Jongdae—has he been there all along? Kyungsoo can’t help but smile at his sight, though. He hates it. “I appreciate you, Kyungsoo. Let’s go.”

“Don’t you also have to, um—”

“Taken care of,” Baekhyun brushes it off, stepping outside and past Kyungsoo, without once looking at him. Uh. “Our hyungs are waiting!”

Kyungsoo turns back to Jongdae, who rolls his eyes at him. “Chanyeol and I will be there in a tick. Just go.”

He’d be lying if he wasn’t glad to oblige. “Don’t be late. God knows you can come fast anyway.”

“Not so loud, you’re in the street!” Jongdae shrieks, and Kyungsoo doesn’t bother telling him his voice is much, _much_ louder than his own.

As they walk towards the field, Kyungsoo steals a look at Baekhyun—his cheeks, pinker than usual, his fidgeting hands, his quickening pace. He’s still beautiful—not that Kyungsoo would know—and there’s something about his air that’s… interesting, to say the least.

Also, Baekhyun is awfully quiet, which is definitely sign of _something_ —even if it leaves Kyungsoo clueless as to what.

“You sure you’re okay?”

Baekhyun turns to him, pupils dilated and smile a little too big. It still looks nice, though. “Certain. Why?”

Kyungsoo snorts, because he’s not blushing, because he doesn’t want to do something to help Baekhyun with whatever situation he’s found himself in. Not at all. “If you need a moment, Hyunnie, just go. I’ll cover for you, or something. It’s fine.”

“I—” but then Baekhyun cuts himself, and sighs shakily, licking his lips. “It’ll pass. I’m not—I wasn’t—I don’t know.”

“Was she really that hot that you can’t even think straight?” Kyungsoo tries to joke, even if it sounds off to his ears.

Baekhyun swallows, and Kyungsoo follows the motion with his eyes, stares at the spot where his Adam’s apple should be. He wonders if it’ll be there, come Baekhyun’s twentieth, twenty-first, thirtieth birthday, or if his throat will remain smooth like that, his skin will remain as fair and milky and irresistible—

“I swear I’m fine,” Baekhyun stutters, and it’s Kyungsoo’s turn to swallow, looking away. “She wasn’t—she wasn’t all that great, really. I’m good.” It’s like he’s trying to reassure himself, and neither of them understand why.

“Okay.”

“Yeah.”

Kyungsoo doesn’t know why, for the rest of the walk, their conversation is strained and uneasy. It all gets forgotten—or almost—as the game kicks off, and Kyungsoo lets himself stare a little again at Baekhyun’s throat, today. It has a nice shine, under the afternoon sun.

***

“Kyungsoo-yah!”

“Yeah?”

“Come help me with dinner. And call your brother to help, too.”

“Yeah, mom.”

The kitchen smells deliciously. Kyungsoo emerges from his room, still in his school uniform, as he rubs against his cheek. He accidentally fell asleep over his Calculus book. It’s okay, though—he had gone through all the exercises due the next day, and was only going over extra ones, for added practice. Falling asleep was just an accident, and not something worth worrying about. Not really.

He’ll work harder after dinner.

He knocks at Seungsoo’s door. “Mom’s calling.”

“What for?”

“Cooking duty.”

“That’s a girl’s job.”

Uh oh.

“Did I _hear_ you right?” their mother yells from the kitchen. Kyungsoo skitters away from his brother’s room, washing his hands in the kitchen sink as his mother runs to the other direction, hammering Seungsoo’s door with her angered fist. “So what am I, then, your maid, huh? _‘A girl’s job.’_ I didn’t raise you to be a brat, Do Seungsoo!”

“I’m coming I’m coming I’m coming I’m coming, Christ!”

“Do _not_ sass me, young boy. Remember who still washes your dirty clothes and cleans your mess.”

Kyungsoo listens to the exchange with a smile, drying off his hands with the cloth his mother keeps hooked around the oven handle. “What can I do for you, mom?”

She comes back with her cheeks red, a slight shine of sweat dusting her hairline, hands already busying themselves with the pan she was attending to. Kyungsoo’s mother is getting old, but she remains beautiful, in many ways—and just the sight of her manages to warm his heart a little, even at the oddest of times.

But sometimes her words come out as careless, even when she doesn’t mean them to be.

“Thank the heavens I have you, son,” his mother sighs. “Whoever you choose to marry will be the luckiest girl on this planet.”

Uh. Right, sure, of course, because Kyungsoo will have to get married, someday. He knows that.

It’s not like he hasn’t thought about it— _everyone_ thinks about marriage, late at night when it seems much further away than it actually is—but then again, he’s only seventeen, and so the prospect of getting married, settling down, having a wife and kids is just… not something he has really considered.

(In truth, Kyungsoo has. He’s imagined a life as a father, with two or three kids of his own, and has also thought about taking them to Junmyeon’s future house so that they can get some respectable influence, or to Baekhyun’s just because he thinks Baekhyun would make a great uncle—or father—to have around.)

His mother doesn’t seem to notice his silence, or barely—she’s already rattling instructions to him at a dizzying speed, and Kyungsoo has to pay attention not to miss anything. His mom doesn’t like to repeat herself, he knows.

Seungsoo appears moments after, eyes bleary and limbs lazy. “What can I help with?”

“The onions—cut them like you’re supposed to. You know what to do.”

“Can’t you just get Kyungsoo to do that?”

“I’m busy,” Kyungsoo replies. His mom huffs, and starts ranting, and Kyungsoo sighs.

It’s usually the same thing, told time and time again, in the same two or three variations. _You need to take care of yourselves without having me around_ , or, _You can’t always count on me forever_ , or when she feels particularly bold—like today—it can sound like, “One day, I’ll die and you’ll find yourselves alone, unable to keep yourselves alive. Just you wait! What will happen of you then, huh?”

Usually, Seungsoo replies with things like, _You’re right, mom_ , or _Alright, mom_ , or when she gets a little overzealous, he attempts to calm her down with a, _Don’t say things like that, mom_.

It starts off like that today, too. “Don’t say stuff like that, yeah?” But then, he adds, “You never know—we might die before you do, too,” and the room falls silent after his words.

Kyungsoo looks up, unmoving. His mother has stopped mixing the contents of her pan, staring at him with something like mixed fury and disbelief. She looks like she’s seen a ghost, like the idea her son’s comment just implied hadn’t occurred to her up until now.

Seungsoo, for his part, only looks half-bored, eyes still down—it’s obvious he didn’t mean his words, not in any serious manner, but Kyungsoo would be lying if he didn’t feel a thread of dread crawling up his throat just as the thought of his brother’s words.

It’s not like he hasn’t thought about it— _everyone_ thinks about death, late at night when it seems much more terrifying than it is in the daylight, but not any less dreadful—but then again, he’s only seventeen, still healthy, and is lucky enough to have parents in great condition who love him unconditionally.

(But sometimes, it scares him how much he thinks about it. He’s imagined it, many times, in different circumstances. Scenarios where his parents would still speak to him, because he managed to quiet down the desires he feels are pushing at his skin more and more insistently that he can’t keep them inside for much longer. Scenarios where they don’t, and neither of them wouldn’t know of anything happening until they hear it from someone where, somewhere, mentioned in passing. It’s terribly morbid, he knows, but he can’t help it. Kyungsoo doesn’t want to die—but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t think about it, without wishing for it.)

His mother presses his lips, and her tone is frighteningly calm when she speaks. “Don’t ever say things like that again.”

Seungsoo, startled, looks up, and his demeanor changes as soon as he catches sight of his mother’s eyes. Kyungsoo wonders what he sees in them that makes him so suddenly obedient. “Alright, mom. I’m sorry.”

Though she doesn’t say anything, nor does she give a nod, it’s as though their mother’s accepted apology resonates across the room. It takes a few more minutes for the ease of earlier to come back, but soon enough, Seungsoo makes a remark about the onions making him cry, his mother scolds him for his childish impertinence, and Kyungsoo sighs in relief, a smile pulling at his lips he sees mirrored against his mother’s.

***

“Do you want to get married?”

“Of course. Who doesn’t?”

“I was just wondering.”

“Well I do. You?”

“I do too. I think.” _Maybe._

“You _think_? Kyungsoo, it’s either you want to or you don’t.”

“Well I don’t know, Baekhyun, do I? It’s not like I want to marry a particular _someone_ anyway.”

Silence. The trees around them dance long the October wind, whistling softly.

“Me neither. But I know I want to marry. Any someone.”

“Anyone?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“Just wondering.” _Do you mean it?_

Another pause.

“Have you ever thought about dying, then?”

“Wow, way to kill the mood, Soo.”

“Is that a pun?”

“Actually, it wasn’t, but—wait, _why_ would you wanna talk about death anyway?”

 _I don’t._ “I mean—God, forget it.”

“It’s too early for your deep thoughts. And why would I think about dying anyway? I don’t want that to happen. Not anytime soon anyway.”

 _Me neither, but—_ “Forget it.”

“Damn right I will. And you should, too. Keep thinking about getting married, Soo. You get awfully talkative when you think about bad things, it doesn’t suit you.”

“What if I don’t marry anyone?”

“I’ll get you a room in my house. You can live with us, my future wife and I.”

 _Oh, hell_. “Uh. No, thanks.”

“You say that now, but when you’ll be all alone and lonely, you’ll think of me, Kyungsoo-yah.”

_You have no idea._

***

It just so happens that a week before Chanyeol’s birthday, Lee Moonsae is having a show at the nearest concert hall to their modest Ssangmun-dong—and it also just so happens that Lee Moonsae counts amongst their tiny little group’s favourite singers, and one of the very few they all seemingly enjoy, when Jongdae isn’t yelling about how boring Im Jihoon’s songs actually are and Chanyeol isn’t ranting about the superficiality of Sobangcha’s Americanized pop sound.

Kyungsoo holds the tickets tightly against his palm, pressed against his back, as he knocks decidedly three times against Chanyeol’s front door, announcing himself with, “Special delivery for Park Chanyeol!”

“Delivery? For me?” Chanyeol opens the door, smile too big and teeth showing—many, always too many. Kyungsoo smiles back easily, because Chanyeol looks like an adorable oversized puppy when he smiles. “It’s another 20 days until my birthday, though.”

“Who says I got you anything for your birthday, brat?” Kyungsoo mutters.

Chanyeol stares at him, deadpan, as he moves aside and lets him in. “Because you’re my best friend and I know you and I also know that whatever you’re holding behind your back is meant for me, so just cut the bullshit already and _giveittomepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease?_ ”

“Am I really that obvious?”

Chanyeol’s smile softens as Kyungsoo takes off his shoes. “To anyone else, probably not. But you’re too soft with me. You think no one can read your mind because you don’t talk much but God knows you’re obvious to _me_.”

Kyungsoo punches his arm with the hand that holds the tickets. “There, idiot. Have fun.”

Grabby hands get a hold of the tickets, and Chanyeol reads over them excitedly—until he really _does_ read, and something seems to happen, and his face falls slightly. Kyungsoo knows he’s trying not to let it show—but as Chanyeol knows him so well, Kyungsoo also knows Chanyeol inside and out. “You don’t like it.” It’s an observation, not a question.

“That’s not—no!” exclaims Chanyeol, eyes wide and earnest. Okay, so maybe Kyungsoo read that wrong—but the unease in Chanyeol’s eyes is also still present, so there _is_ something. “ _No_ , God, you know how much I love Lee Moonsae, you _know_ that, and I’m glad, believe me—”

“Yeah, so what is it?” Impatience isn’t one of Kyungsoo’s faulty traits, except, maybe, in situations like these, when he feels like he’s doing things wrong, when he feels like he can’t trust anything his mind can tell him.

“I, um.” Chanyeol sighs, then takes Kyungsoo’s wrist. “Let’s just go to my room, I’ll show you.”

After being dragged across the living room and through Chanyeol’s bedroom door, Kyungsoo plumps on Chanyeol’s unmade bed, lead filling up his stomach. “What is it, Chanyeollie? I got us two tickets, so you don’t even have to worry about company—” Or maybe… “—or maybe you don’t wanna go with me?” he asks with a tiny voice. Kyungsoo wouldn’t understand, except maybe he does. Maybe Chanyeol has noticed _something_ , maybe—

“Don’t be stupid, Soo-yah,” Chanyeol rolls his eyes, but his tone is determined, honest. He fetches something from his desk drawer, and dumps it on Kyungsoo’s lap—two small bands of paper, not unlike the ones he’s just handed Chanyeol, and— _oh_. Kyungsoo understands. “Jongdae got me these, already. We made plans, and everything.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” A pause. “That’s okay.”

It’s not okay.

Silence. Kyungsoo doesn’t know why the thought makes him so sad. It’s _fine_ , really—it has happened tons of times before, so why is it upsetting him so much, now? Chanyeol and Jongdae hang out together all the time, and so do Jongdae and Junmyeon, and Baekhyun and Chanyeol, and Baekhyun and Jongdae, and now, Yixing and Baekhyun, Yixing and Jongdae, Yixing and Junmyeon, Yixing, Chanyeol, Jongdae, Junmyeon…

And Kyungsoo spends one-on-one time with his friends, too. A lot. Just not lately—not with anyone except Baekhyun, anyway, at odd intervals, and it’s…

He doesn’t want to lose Chanyeol, his best friend, or any of his friends for that matter, but school is taking over things and the only person he often really wants to spend time with is Baekhyun—because as much as the thought of the boy fucks up with his head, it’s also the only soul who is so well-synced with his own, the only person who manages to calm his nerves even when Kyungsoo isn’t aware they’re flaring up.

Even Chanyeol sometimes get a little too excited about things to truly sense something might be wrong with Kyungsoo—not that there _is_ something wrong with Kyungsoo, but… Baekhyun would know. Kyungsoo doesn’t understand how, but he would.

But this was an attempt to make amends—to spend more time with Chanyeol, to take him out on his birthday because that’s what best friends do, because he misses his dorky mess of a best friend, especially since Chanyeol doesn’t turn his insides upside down and doesn’t make him think of marriage and other things.

And Chanyeol, ever so observant, seems to pick up on the turmoil in his head. Of course he does. Maybe, after all, it’s just Kyungsoo who doesn’t give him enough credit. “You’re upset.”

“No, I’m not.” Kyungsoo doesn’t know why he’s trying to lie.

Chanyeol sighs, sits next to Kyungsoo on his bed and wordlessly brings an arm around his shoulders. Wordlessly, Kyungsoo follows the motion and lays his head on Chanyeol’s shoulder. He can already breathe a little more freely. “You’re a terrible liar, Soo.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m sorry about the tickets.”

“It’s not your fault, hey. Jongdae was just faster than me.” As if November 7 wasn’t already enough, Kyungsoo wonders bitterly—when did Jongdae even get those tickets?

“But you’re still upset.”

“I’m _not_.”

“You _are_. We can always plan something else, though, right? I…” Chanyeol sighs around him, but it’s not reproachful—just very warm, welcoming, something Kyungsoo has dearly missed. “I miss your pouty face, Kyungsoo.”

“I miss your lanky ass, too.”

Chanyeol jostles him, and Kyungsoo laughs, because it’s easy like that. He’s probably doing the _squishy smile_ Chanyeol and Baekhyun constantly tease him for, because it makes him look like a baby—Chanyeol’s words—and too kind for his own good—Baekhyun’s.

He’s missed this.

They stay like this for a minute or two, in silence, and Kyungsoo has closed his eyes when Chanyeol speaks again. “Go with Baekhyun.”

Kyungsoo freezes. “What?”

“Your tickets—you don’t want them to go to waste, right? So take Baekhyun instead of me. We might meet with you guys, even? That is, if you want us to. Unless you’d rather, you know. Keep it a date, or whatever, that’s fine too—”

“Not a date,” Kyungsoo suddenly cuts, before he realizes what he’s saying—what _Chanyeol_ is saying. “I mean—why would it be a date, anyway? That’s… I mean, it’s really not…”

His voice is shaking. His heart is racing. He’s hot under his jacket—he hasn’t taken it off yet—and he hopes Chanyeol doesn’t notice any of it.

But of course he does.

Chanyeol takes his time, picking his next words carefully. Kyungsoo feels his hair brush against the top of his head as he moves, presses his chin against the crown of his head. “Soo.”

Kyungsoo’s heart is about to explode. “Mmh?”

“Do you like Baekhyun?” The question is spoken so softly, so earnestly, so very Chanyeol-like, devoid of any bite or any judgement.

It’s as simple as that.

And Kyungsoo doesn’t know what to say.

He could lie—it feels like he’s done it a thousand times before, anyway, because self-preservation pushes him to think that way, to hide whatever he’s trying to hide, to not let anyone know. But lately, Kyungsoo feels as though he’s been lying to himself for so long he doesn’t even know how to distinguish the truth from the fabrication anymore—which, in turns, makes it even harder to be honest, because the thought of honesty is now more confusing than it used to be.

“I don’t know,” he whispers, or thinks he does.

Chanyeol, God bless him, hears him. “So, are you like…”

Kyungsoo swallows. “I—I don’t know.”

“I mean.” They’re still not looking at each other, but Kyungsoo feels like he’s being examined, _watched_ , in such a calculated manner—and yet so, so loved. The fear still laces his heart. He wants to cry. “If, you know. You happened to be gay, I’m fine with it. Dicks are cool, I guess.”

Kyungsoo snorts. God, he loves his idiot of a best friend so _much_.

It’s also the first time Kyungsoo has ever heard that word— _gay_ —being used to describe him. He doesn’t even use it in his own thoughts, because it feels so concrete, so real, and he doesn’t think he’s ready to face it all yet.

Or maybe he is, and was just waiting for someone to do it first. Maybe he _needed_ someone else—a kind, understanding Chanyeol, in this case—to tell the truth apart from the lie, to remind him of something he had thought he was hiding all too well. Like it’s the case now.

“I don’t know if I’m gay, though.”

“Do you like girls?” asks Chanyeol.

Does Kyungsoo like girls? “That’s a good question.”

“You’re off a pretty gay start, my friend.”

“Piss off.”

Chanyeol laughs all around him, and Kyungsoo burrows deeper into his best friend’s embrace. He’s sweating terribly under his jacket, and the tickets—both his and Jongdae’s, or rather, his and Chanyeol’s, or something—are lost, scattered across the floor somewhere. “So you don’t know if you like girls, and you don’t know if you’re gay.”

“Maybe it’s just a Baekhyun thing.” What he’s admitting—what he’s so obviously putting out there—is just as scary as the thought of being different is.

 _A Baekhyun thing_. “Uh. That’s still pretty gay, Kyungsoo.”

“What do _you_ know about it, anyway?”

Chanyeol shrugs, dragging Kyungsoo up with him in his motions. “You’re right, I don’t know much about it, but…” He shrugs again. Kyungsoo groans, Chanyeol apologizes. “But I mean. Are you sure you haven’t, I don’t know. Felt that way about anyone else before?”

Kyungsoo thinks, or pretends to—because there’s already another face coming up in mind, a new one; half-moons framed with crinkles and a deep dimple digging into a soft-skinned cheek. The feeling is much more tamed, but there nonetheless. How did he not realize until now? “Maybe.”

“It’s fine, Kyungsoo. You’re still Kyungsoo, aren’t you?”

“You make it sound so _easy_ ,” Kyungsoo sighs breathily. “Not everyone is as… nice about it.”

After all, there’s a reason why Kyungsoo started lying, even unconsciously—because of the things he’s heard his brother say, because it is only the norm that a boy and a girl must like each other, get married, have kids of their own, and not like other boys or other girls because that’s _weird_ and not the way things should be.

Kyungsoo has done a good job at ignoring his brother’s words, for the most part. He doesn’t think about anything it might mean—not really, not until now, anyway—because it doesn’t make sense to him, how something so pure could ever be so wrong.

As he’s just said, not everyone is as nice about it—and so Kyungsoo has always tried to be nicer.

“I’m a nice guy, Kyungsoo,” Chanyeol singsongs, and Kyungsoo smiles again, tiny, tiny this time.

Kyungsoo looks up, catches Chanyeol watching him fondly. “Are you sure you’re not gay, too?”

Did Kyungsoo just refer himself as a gay man? Holy shit. Maybe he just did.

Chanyeol barks a laugh. “Positive. And if anyone’s being an asshole to you about it, just let me know. I’ll punch them in the throat.”

“No, you wouldn’t. You’re too soft.”

“Maybe you’re right. But honestly, though. I would try, still.”

There’s a pause, and Kyungsoo decides to be honest, once more. “I haven’t told anyone. I didn’t even admit it to myself until three minutes ago.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” But it’s too weird not to laugh at the oddness of it all, and so Kyungsoo laughs, and Chanyeol joins him, albeit more softly. “Holy fuck, Chanyeol. I’m _gay_.”

“You’re gay, Kyungsoo.”

“I’m really fucking gay.”

“Uh—yeah, you are. If you say so. Pretty fucking gay indeed.”

“I like Baekhyun.”

“You like—wait, really?” When Kyungsoo threatens to punch him, Chanyeol recoils. “Alright, alright, you like Baekhyun, I knew that already, _Christ_.”

They stay like that a little while longer. Kyungsoo tells him about his thoughts—the ones about getting married, being a father, and wifeless, the ones about dying with or without the family he has come to know, the ones he’s never dwelled on, about himself, and the fears that come with it.

Chanyeol’s patience is so sincere Kyungsoo has to keep himself from tearing up so often it’s almost embarrassing. Chanyeol tells him the future might make things easier. Chanyeol tells him to have faith in the people he loves, because if _he_ has come to notice and understand things, others might, too. And if they don’t…

Though Chanyeol doesn’t finish that thought, Kyungsoo thanks him. At least, Do Kyungsoo is lucky enough to have an understanding, wonderful best friend as Park Chanyeol.

***

“So are you gonna ask him out?”

“Who?”

“Baekhyun. Are you going to ask him out?”

 _Fuck. I have to now, don’t I?_ “Are you fucking out of your _mind?_ ”

“No. I’m serious!”

“No fucking way.”

“At least ask him for the Lee Moonsae concert. Yes?”

“No.” _He’s not gonna say yes._

“He’s gonna say yes.”

“He’s not gonna say anything, because I won’t ask him.” _He’s not gonna say yes because he isn’t—he can’t be like me… right?_

 _Oh my God, what if he is?_ “Yeah, you will.”

 _Fuck off, Park Chanyeol._ “No, I won’t.”

“If you do, you owe me lunch. Deal?”

 _Do I have enough to pay for lunch for the both of us?_ “Deal. Starve, Park Chanyeol.”

“Not a chance, Soo-yah.”

***

It’s often in the midst of action that one can realize the impact of a simple, prior discussion.

Words—their meaning, the power they hold, the emotion they carry—are prevailing, mystical even. The memory of them can elicit the remembrance of feelings, instances, smells and tastes and melodies. The thoughts they bring forth are often just as strong as hearing those words being spoken, or even simply reminded of.

When Kyungsoo decides to ask Baekhyun the next day, on their way back from school, about the Lee Moonsae concert, tickets clutched tight in his palm inside his pocket, the thought of his conversation with Chanyeol rushes back to him at an incredible speed, words filling up his head too fast, even. Fear clogs his throat and he can’t look at Baekhyun straight and he almost doesn’t catch it when—

“Yeah, I’ll go with you, Kyungsoo.”

He breathes again, deeply. It’s like he’s emerging from the ocean. “You will?”

“Yeah, sure, why not? I love Lee Moonsae. You know I do.” Sparkly eyes and soft cheeks look up to him, and Kyungsoo melts despite the fear. “It’ll be so much fun!”

Indeed, Baekhyun loves Lee Moonsae. But Kyungsoo picked those tickets for Chanyeol, and not Baekhyun, and now he has more to deal with than he originally planned. “It’s fine if it’s just the two of us?”

Baekhyun’s smirk is tantalizing. “Why, are you asking me on a date, Do Kyungsoo?”

Kyungsoo might have been brave, the day before, but there’s only so much he’s willing to admit, to risk, for now. “What a prick you are.”

“So it’s a date, yes?”

“Shut _up_ , Byun Baekhyun.”

Baekhyun laughs, the sound ringing beautifully all around them, into the streets and higher up the sky. “I’ll go with you, big head.”

***

There’s still about ten days until the concert—and so until that time, their routine resumes, with school every weekday and tteokbeokki on Wednesdays and scattered afternoons at Junmyeon’s and everyone’s moms constantly on their backs about everything.

Nothing really changes, really, except for three things.

The first being Yixing—who’s learned a great deal of Korean now, and is much more confident in the language than he used to be. It’s all thanks to Chanyeol and Jongdae, (un)fortunately, and though Yixing can now keep up with their conversations much more efficiently, there’s also many more risks of him saying things he doesn’t mean—simply because he wasn’t taught the right thing by his beloved teachers.

“So if I wanna ask someone out, I say, ‘Would you do me the honour of fisting me,’ is that it?”

Junmyeon pales, Kyungsoo drops his chopsticks, Baekhyun chokes on his rice cakes. Jongdae’s snort is heard across the entire restaurant, and Chanyeol is shaking his head so vigorously Kyungsoo is afraid he might get whiplash. There’s still sauce left at the corner of his lips, the idiot.

“ _Which one of you was it,_ ” Junmyeon demands—not _asks_ , because the tone he’s using is too chilling, too serious and grave for it to be nice, surprisingly. From the corner of his eye, Kyungsoo sees that Baekhyun’s coughing is slowly turning into silent laughter.

Through it all, Yixing only observes them with wide, questioning eyes. “Did I say it wrong?”

Chanyeol’s head shaking doubles in intensity, fixing Junmyeon with the biggest eyes—he’s probably aiming for the sincere look, Kyungsoo thinks. “It wasn’t me!” he shrieks, his curls bouncing with his head movements. “Hyung, you _have_ to trust me, I _promise_ you this time it _really_ wasn’t me—”

Jongdae’s boisterous laugh cuts through his words, and Kyungsoo catches a few other customers in the room turn their heads towards their table. _Great_. “This is fucking _hilarious_ ,” he wheezes, tears escaping the mess of crinkles his eyes have become, smile so big it’s about to split his face in half. “Yixing-hyung, you’re truly a _delight_ to have around.”

The half-smile Yixing offers is handsome—yes, _handsome_ , Kyungsoo has a pair of eyes and a brain that’s finally functioning properly and he can see Yixing is fucking hot, alright—but Yixing still looks uncertain, like he isn’t sure what exactly he’s said that’s funny. Poor guy.

Baekhyun speaks up. “Xing-hyung,” he says, “just, um. So you keep your ass in one piece. Or two, actually, or—anyway.” He takes on a grave look, something that’s probably meant to look serious but only looks sort of ridiculous and all kinds of cute, in Kyungsoo’s eyes. “Don’t say that, to anyone, ever again.”

Yixing slowly nods. “Jongdae taught me the wrong thing again, didn’t he?”

“Oh, Yixing-hyung,” Kyungsoo sighs, “you have no idea.”

So that’s one thing—Yixing’s improved Korean, but also, Yixing’s pretty much irreplaceable spot in their group of friends. It only took a few weeks, but Kyungsoo can hardly see how they could ever let him go now—not that they ever would want to, either—and even though he’s very much still new to the neighborhood and needs one of them to know his way around, Yixing now fits seamlessly with the rest of them—definitively.

Another thing that stands out from their little routine is how much school seemingly takes a toll on everyone. Kyungsoo isn’t the only one hiding in his room and burying himself under textbooks anymore—sometimes, Chanyeol will join him, take the spot on the floor (because as tall and lanky as he is, he prefers the floor and the freedom it provides to Kyungsoo’s too big desk), or more and more often, Kyungsoo will join Junmyeon and Yixing at the study rooms a little further into town, where they each take a cubicle and only ever ask each other a few questions when they can’t find their answers in their books.

Yixing and Junmyeon do a whole lot of talking, Kyungsoo also notices. They’ve grown very close, since Yixing’s arrival—closer than Yixing has with the rest of them, except maybe with Baekhyun. It’s nice, he thinks—as Kyungsoo has Chanyeol and Baekhyun has Jongdae, in a way, maybe Junmyeon has found that person in Yixing, too.

Jongdae sometimes joins them to study, but never at the study rooms—he’ll only appear with his books at Kyungsoo’s house, mostly because Chanyeol is there, and because Jongdae is quite fond of Kyungsoo’s mom’s cooking and will do anything to have an extra taste of her japchae. Kyungsoo acts like he doesn’t notice, and Jongdae acts like he doesn’t know Kyungsoo knows. Chanyeol doesn’t care.

(Speaking of Jongdae, he has seemed to have _calmed down_ , lately—at times when he would usually whine about the lack of girls in their neighborhood or how the ones they _do_ know are below his standards, he now rants about one of them in particular: the easygoing, Kang Seulgi. Kyungsoo thinks she’s rather elegant, and one of the kindest people he knows, and she’s also a good friend of his and Baekhyun’s especially. Jongdae thinks she’s particularly annoying lately. Kyungsoo pretends he doesn’t notice him blush whenever he mentions her.)

But school remains school and though it’s getting more and more stressful, omnipresent, eating up on everything else—and while Yixing’s presence is new, despite having grown usual and something incredibly familiar despite its novelty—neither of those two things compare to the third, most striking thing that has _changed_.

Kyungsoo, mostly.

Or rather, the way Kyungsoo sees and does things. He feels like a new person altogether but he also doesn’t—maybe that’s what it feels like to know oneself, not to be afraid of what one might be. It feels as though he has more control on things—his _feelings_ , his _thoughts_ —but he also doesn’t; he just seems to understand them better.

It’s in the little things that Kyungsoo feels different—despite being, and also _feeling_ the same, strangely enough.

“Kyungsoo-yah!” he hears Baekhyun call from outside his window one morning. “Kyungsoo!”

One or too many skipped heartbeats and clammy palms. Those were the kind of things that haven’t necessarily changed nor just appeared, but Kyungsoo now understands—their meaning, mostly.

He rushes to the front door, slipping on his shoes a little too hastily and missing the heel of one of them. He’s throwing on his jacket when he hears his mother from the kitchen. (She’s _always_ in the kitchen, no matter the hour. Kyungsoo wonders if it’s a mom thing. It probably is.)

“Bundle up, Kyungsoo!” she says. “It’s getting cold, these days. You know what they say about catching a cold in November.”

Kyungsoo doesn’t know, actually. “Yes, mom.” Whatever.

He makes it outside in record time, and he gets his breath taken away from the mere sight of Baekhyun, kicking invisible rock down the stairs with his still wet hair falling in heavy lumps across his forehead. His mouth is even more red than it usually looks. Kyungsoo licks his lips unconsciously.

That’s another thing—the thought of _kissing_ Baekhyun is omnipresent, overwhelming, now that Kyungsoo _knows_ he wants it. It follows him like a nasty shadow over every little interaction he has with him, at times stronger than others.

Baekhyun looks up, and Kyungsoo blinks. “There you are. Let’s hurry, yeah? I think we’re gonna miss the bus.”

“Your hair’s still wet,” Kyungsoo points out. He doesn’t move.

Baekhyun rolls his eyes. “I’m aware. The hairdryer wouldn’t work this morning and it’s not like I have the luxury of being late right now. Come on down!”

“What about the others?” Kyungsoo says, running down the stairs and falling into step with Baekhyun as he starts walking.

“Junmyeon and Yixing have already left,” Baekhyun says. “Together. Dunno about Jongdae and Chanyeol, though.”

“Shouldn’t we wait?”

Baekhyun snorts, a tiny smile quirking up his lips, and Kyungsoo wants to hold his hand— _why_ is he thinking about holding his hand _now_? “Jongdae is probably watching out for Kang Seulgi somewhere at the street corner, and Chanyeol is either still asleep, or he’ll show up running after us at the last minute. Or both.”

“Both?”

“Probably both.”

Turns out, Baekhyun was right—they find Jongdae thoroughly pretending _not_ to be watching for Seulgi, up until Joohyun, her best friend, shows up to tell him she’s already caught the bus, leaving him with no other choice but to follow Baekhyun and Kyungsoo to the bus stop. Turns out, Chanyeol was also still asleep, and barely makes it in time for the last bus, hair still rumpled with sleep and eyelids heavy.

It doesn’t keep him from being obvious and knowing too much and slightly getting on Kyungsoo’s nerves—no matter what excuse Chanyeol might come up with, especially if he says he does it “ _to look out for you, Kyungsoo_.”

As it is this morning, Chanyeol eyes Kyungsoo when they enter the bus, and visibly stays back, leaving him the spot in front of him—right behind Baekhyun. _Damn it._

“Come on,” he presses, eyes expectant. Kyungsoo sees right through it.

There’s an entire line behind them, waiting impatiently, tickets and coins in hand. “Chanyeol, don’t do this _here_ —”

“Doing what?” Chanyeol raises both eyebrows at him, motioning ahead, face completely innocent-looking and _lying_. “Just go already. We don’t have forever.”

Kyungsoo complies, and Chanyeol smiles at him knowingly—a _liar_.

So yeah—nothing changes, except maybe everything does, and Kyungsoo has no other choice but to comply, and live on.

***

It’s three days before the concert and Kyungsoo is over at Baekhyun’s place.

They don’t often meet up here—more often than not, they get kicked out by Baekbeom, with whom Baekhyun has no other choice but to share his room with. It’s a shame—despite the rather small size of their living space, Kyungsoo absolutely loves it over at Baekhyun’s. His parents are lively and kind just like their son is, and even if Baekbeom could use one or thirty lessons on politeness and having fun at times, he remains just as kind as the rest of his family, behind his grumpy looks.

“Sometimes, I wonder if Baekbeom really is my brother, you know,” Baekhyun often tells him, like he is now, munching on chips they picked up on their way from school. They’re still in their school uniforms, rumpled from the day’s activities and the fact that they’re lying on the floor. “We might look alike, and everything, but he’s like, _so_ different.”

“Seungsoo and I are different too,” Kyungsoo mentions. They’re so close—thighs touching and arms brushing and sharing the same bag of chips because Baekhyun didn’t have enough to buy one of his own and Kyungsoo doesn’t mind sharing, not with Baekhyun. “He’s, like, my nemesis, or something.” Brotherly nemesis? Something like that, Kyungsoo figures.

“Baekbeom is on another level, though,” Baekhyun insists. “What if he _isn’t_ actually my brother? Maybe he’s an alien creation who’s eaten up other civilizations’ spaceships, taken over some of our satellites, or something, and learned about us through phone waves and imitated our appearance—my _family’s_ , mind you—and now he’s here, trying to take over the planet.”

Kyungsoo blinks at him. “How many times have you watched _Alien_ , Baekhyun?”

“Enough to know aliens are fucking _real_ , man, I’m telling you.” He licks his fingers from the salt of their snack, and Kyungsoo wants to scream at the fact that Baekhyun keeps his fingers _there_ , transfixed by his fucking _mouth_ and _tongue_. “Maybe, by the time I grow up and travel the world, space travel will be real—”

“It already is.”

“—but like, for _us_ , you know. The modest ones of us. Maybe I’ll end up visiting the Moon. Or Mars. Mars looks pretty sick. Don’t you wanna visit Mars?”

Kyungsoo shrugs. “I think Earth’s cozy enough.”

“Of course you’d think that. You would stay in Ssangmun-Dong your entire life with your little family if you could. Working that 9-to-5 job and everything, coming home to a wife who loves you and cooks you your favourite meal every evening,” Baekhyun sighs, moving his elegant hands around in motions that render Kyungsoo dizzy and sick.

This time, it hurts. It already did before—but now Kyungsoo knows what he _wants_ , as scary as it is, and it only makes words like that hurt even more.

A little honesty wouldn’t hurt, right? It shouldn’t. Kyungsoo shouldn’t be afraid of being honest. “I don’t think I’d want that.”

Baekhyun turns to him, smiling that interested, almost condescending smirk of his—only Kyungsoo knows it isn’t malicious, but simply curious, incredibly so, because that’s what Baekhyun is like. “Oh? And what does Do Kyungsoo-ssi want, then?”

 _You_. “Definitely not a wife that cooks the same thing every evening,” he says instead. “And what if I want to cook? Why would she have to stay at home anyway? Girls go to school now, you know. Just like boys do. So it’s only fair boys would cook, help with cleaning, and all that crap.” He shrugs. “I mean, it doesn’t make sense anyway _not_ to learn how to do that stuff. It’s… normal. What if you end up having to do these things on your own anyway?”

“You don’t talk a lot, Kyungsoo, but when you do, you say some pretty weird shit,” Baekhyun chuckles.

Kyungsoo frowns. “It’s not weird. It’s only fair.”

“Oh, I agree with you, totally,” Baekhyun nods. His hands haven’t stopped moving, it feels like, and now they’re playing with his collar, undoing the first few buttons of his shirt. Kyungsoo swallows and looks away. _Don’t reach out. Don’t touch. You can’t_. “It’s just—the way you say it. Like you’ve thought about it time and time again on your own, or something. And when it comes out, it’s all like— _out there_. All at once.” He pauses, turns to look at Kyungsoo with those bright, bright eyes of his, shining with kind malice, if that’s even possible. “You know, often I feel like there’s so much going on inside your head, but you rarely ever tell anyone about it.”

“I do tell people about it,” Kyungsoo defends himself. “I tell Chanyeol, sometimes. I tell you.” _I always tell you. Almost._

Baekhyun narrows his eyes at him. “You’d better. You’re… You’re awfully interesting, you know.”

Kyungsoo stares back and hopes he isn’t blushing, even as he feels the skin of his cheeks burning up. “Since when do you speak like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like a teacher, with all those…” Kyungsoo moves his hand around, much less elegantly than Baekhyun does, all the time. “ _Grand_ words.”

Baekhyun snorts. “What, you want me to speak like a street kid.”

“Aren’t we street kids?”

“Maybe.” Baekhyun hums. “Yeah, we definitely are.”

Kyungsoo doesn’t know what to say to that, so he keeps quiet. In fact, his mind is replaying Baekhyun’s earlier words like a mantra, right now.

_You’re awfully interesting, you know._

Kyungsoo can’t tell if he’s imagining the awe, the admiration in Baekhyun’s tone. He wishes his heart would forget about it, actually. He decides to focus on the rundown paint covering the walls around them—gray and beige, hidden behind the myriad of old and worn posters belonging to the Byun brothers spread out across the room. Their edges are worn, their time has long ended.

“So, what else do you want, then?” Baekhyun asks, and Kyungsoo startles. The motion makes him super aware again of how close they are, with how his entire body shakes up Baekhyun’s as well. “Of your life, and everything.”

He brings his knees up to his chest, and hugs his arms around them. What does Kyungsoo want? “That’s a good question.”

“So, we already settled the wife thing,” Baekhyun points out. “Not a wife that cooks you the same thing, over and over again. Can’t blame you for that.”

“Not a wife, no,” Kyungsoo murmurs. A little more honest. He can do it. “Not at all.”

Baekhyun turns to him, eyebrows high on his forehead. “Didn’t you say you wanted to get married?”

Kyungsoo sighs. “Yes, I still do,” he only says. After a pause, he speaks again, not letting Baekhyun read into his silence, not letting him ask about it. “And not a 9-to-5 job, either. But I don’t know what to do, though.”

“Ah.” Baekhyun jostles him with his shoulder, smile knowing and accomplice. “That makes the two of us.”

“Baekhyun.”

“Mmh?”

“Where are we headed?” Kyungsoo asks timidly.

“I don’t know,” Baekhyun sighs. “Look at us. You’re studying so hard I often worry you’ll kill yourself reading all those books. Not the novels, though—the textbooks. The novels can stay; they make you happy. But I know the truth about the rest, Soo. You should lay off the Chemistry and Calculus books.” Kyungsoo smiles because Baekhyun knows him so well, and it makes his eyes sting. “And me—I’m a lost cause. I might be smart—that I am, you know that—but I’m poor as shit, and God knows if I’ll get a scholarship by the end of the year, or what I’ll do with it if I do get it…” He sighs deeply. “Where _are_ we headed?”

Kyungsoo bites his lip. “What is it that _you_ want, Baekhyun?”

A hum resonates first in the room. “That’s a good question,” Baekhyun throws back at him. For all the words he usually spills, Baekhyun stays suddenly silent after that. Kyungsoo is about to give up on an extended answer when he speaks up again, softly. “Do you ever feel like there’s so much you want—but you can’t have?”

 _Yes—you. I want you. And so much more that I don’t even know where to begin because I don’t even know it myself._ “A lot of the time.”

Kyungsoo turns to find Baekhyun already staring at him, wondrous and unsure and begging for answers in Kyungsoo’s eyes. Baekhyun wants to travel the world and Kyungsoo wants to give it to him. Baekhyun wants things he can’t have and Kyungsoo wants Baekhyun, that he can’t have.

“What if you want things that… that aren’t right?” Baekhyun asks under his breath.

Kyungsoo’s heart stutters and he wants to throw up, because surely, _surely_ Baekhyun doesn’t know. Surely Baekhyun…

There’s one thing he can assure him, though. One thing Kyungsoo knows to be right. “I know you, Baekhyun,” he murmurs. “No matter what you do, what you choose—you always end up doing the right thing.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Kyungsoo attempts a smile, and softens when he sees Baekhyun relax visibly. “You’ve said it yourself,” he starts. “Sometimes I think and think and I don’t speak, but I _know_. That’s another of those things I’ve thought about.”

“Me?” Baekhyun chuckles, eyes crinkling beautifully, and Kyungsoo pretends he doesn’t notice how wet his voice sounds. “You think that often about me, huh?”

 _You have no idea, Baekhyun_. “Stop flattering yourself. I’ll stop being nice to you if you only make fun of me in return.”

Baekhyun breaks into a full, boxy smile at that, and Kyungsoo can’t help the smile that’s pulling at his own lips—the squishy smile Baekhyun seems to love so much, he knows it. “But what’s the fun in that, right? You _love_ me, Do Kyungsoo.”

Suddenly, Kyungsoo remembers that Baekhyun is energy and sunlight all packed into one person, burning so bright and so warm Kyungsoo sometimes wonders how he hasn’t gotten a burn from it yet—except maybe Kyungsoo isn’t meant to burn under Baekhyun’s light, but only to bask in it, to cherish it.

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes at Baekhyun, but keeps smiling. “I can’t believe I actually do.”

***

The night of the concert, Chanyeol drags Jongdae out much earlier than the time of the concert. Kyungsoo hasn’t asked for this, but Chanyeol has assured him to keep Jongdae distracted and away from Kyungsoo and Baekhyun, were things to get… _spicy_ , as Chanyeol had put it.

As if they had the luxury to do anything _‘spicy’_ , Kyungsoo thinks bitterly—

Actually, _no_ , nothing _will_ happen because nothing _can_ happen, no matter what or how much Kyungsoo wishes and hopes and craves and…

Well.

The closer the time of the concert approaches, the more Kyungsoo wishes Chanyeol wasn’t so fake-sly and hadn’t run away with Jongdae at the first occasion he got, meaning to give him space Kyungsoo very much _never_ asked for.

“What do you think Lee Moonsae looks like?” Baekhyun asks, oblivious to Kyungsoo’s inner turmoil. His hands are sweating and he wants to kiss Baekhyun so _badly_ he doesn’t even understand it himself.

They’re standing in line to enter the hall, and Baekhyun has his hair pushed back and his hands in the pockets of his denim jacket that’s too big for him and the shirt he’s wearing underneath is all white and hugs his chest so nicely Kyungsoo has constantly remind himself to look away and it’s _tiring_ , like everything is.

Kyungsoo shrugs, bites his lips, swallows. His mouth is probably red-bitten at this point, and _not_ from the kind of lip-biting he’d like to receive. “He probably just looks like he does on his record tapes,” he says nonchalantly. More lip-biting. “Just his good old self and his guitar.”

“He’s not _that_ old,” Baekhyun says.

“He’s older than your brother, Baekhyun.”

“I don’t think Baekbeom would like to hear you say _that_ ,” Baekhyun retorts. Then, he shrugs, and asks, “Do you think he’ll play ‘ _Girl,_ ’ then? That’s my favourite song by him.”

Kyungsoo knew that already, and he’s fairly certain Lee Moonsae wouldn’t miss a chance to perform a hit song like that, and tells Baekhyun just as much. 

The line goes by pretty fast—they don’t meet Chanyeol and Jongdae even as they hurry inside the hall, the crowd too thick to recognize anyone. When Baekhyun grabs his wrist, Kyungsoo knows it doesn’t _mean_  anything—it’s only so that they don’t lose each other in this mess, of course—but he can’t help the fast pace his heart takes, and tries not to let it show when Baekhyun turns to him with the broadest, loveliest smile. 

“Mind if I hold on to that?” he asks him, and Kyungsoo positively wants to die. 

“My hand?” he asks dumbly— _not your hand, dumbass, your wrist; could you try being a little more obvious, please?_

Baekhyun suddenly gets shy, and Kyungsoo thinks he sees something far too hopeful in his eyes. He doesn’t want,  _shouldn’t_  get lost in his own fantasies; that’s why he reads less novels and more textbooks lately. 

“Yeah, that. Is that okay?” 

“Of course, yeah,” Kyungsoo replies dumbly again, and Baekhyun smiles broader even, and Kyungsoo melts. 

Some of the nervous feeling evaporates when the lights dim, and the figure of the singer shows up on stage. Not long after, guitar chords follow, the speakers rendering them louder and slightly distorted—the voice that follows, however, is timeless and intact in its timbre, and the music begins.

Through each song, Kyungsoo hums, and Baekhyun listens. Through each song, Kyungsoo only distractedly pays attention, while Baekhyun is completely absorbed into it, swaying along and singing and staying quiet, his eyes never once leaving the stage. Through each song, Kyungsoo is convinced he is  _falling in love_ , while Baekhyun, oblivious in his happiness, only gives him more reasons to do so. 

Kyungsoo has already forgotten why he’s here—it was an accident of sorts, after all—and thinks maybe this is where he’s been heading, this is where he’s meant to be.

Maybe God is on his side, as well—because nearing the end, Baekhyun turns to him, not for the first time. But the eyes that turn to Kyungsoo this time stay there for a while longer, as though remembering this is the person the hand he’s been holding to and squeezing all along belongs to, this is the face of the person who’s brought him here, this is Kyungsoo, staring back at Baekhyun helplessly, without once moving.

“Kyungsoo,” Baekhyun starts, and Kyungsoo almost dies at the way Baekhyun sounds, marvelled and breathless and  _asking_  for something. 

What he sees in Baekhyun’s eyes is something he’s only ever dreamed of—admiration,  _attraction_ ; bright and obvious and so obviously  _Baekhyun_ —and yet it also looks so familiar, and it’s the first time Kyungsoo considers the possibility of getting a taste of what he so desperately wants. 

Delicately, he wraps the hand he has in Baekhyun’s around his, pulling just that much to indicate to move closer. Baekhyun comes easily, and Kyungsoo doesn’t even think twice before reaching for Baekhyun’s other hand, holding it just the same, all around Baekhyun’s thin, elegant fingers. 

Just like that, Kyungsoo becomes the object of Baekhyun’s wonder, the centre of his attention—and though Kyungsoo only half-understands it, the implications of what it might  _mean_  are so full of hope, he doesn’t want to think of anything else.

He can let himself have this, just once. It’s possible, right? When it’s so obvious, right here in front of him to take, it must be possible. It must be _true_. 

Around them, the song ends, and another one begins. The irony of it makes it so that the first notes of ‘ _Girl_ ’ start ringing across the concert hall, and Baekhyun lights up, even as a frown—a desperate, eager frown—takes over his features. 

“Kyungsoo,” he repeats, and Kyungsoo almost lets out a noise just at the sound of his name spoken like  _that_  in Baekhyun’s voice.

He steps closer, again, and again, until the tip of their shoes are touching. When he looks up, their faces are so goddamn close, and Baekhyun’s eyes are wide, a little scared, but they’re hungry and fixed on Kyungsoo’s lips and it must mean  _something_ , right?

Really, the irony of it all resides in the fact that this song, around them, never makes mention of said  _girl_ , and as he listens to the lyrics, Kyungsoo thinks he has only ever felt that way for one  _boy_. 

He should take this slow, ask Baekhyun for a confirmation, or an insult, anything—but isn’t the slight nod he’s just given him enough of a confirmation? They’re standing so _close_ already, and Baekhyun hasn’t made one move to step away; he stands still, waiting, and Kyungsoo thinks they’ve both been patient enough. He’s never been a man of words, anyway, and it’s one thing Baekhyun  _knows_  of him, should know of him.

“ _Kyungsoo_ ,” Baekhyun breathes, the air puffing against Kyungsoo’s mouth.

And to hell with words. 

Kyungsoo leans in, slots his lips against Baekhyun’s, and softly, thoroughly, he kisses him. 

 

* * *

 

Baekhyun’s mind is racing—just like his heart—and he’s not exactly sure where he is anymore, or how he got there, or even what day it is.

There’s a crowd surrounding them. Though they’re hidden in the shadows, and the music blares loudly from the end of the room, making it impossible for anyone to hear, Baekhyun panics. He’s lost, he’s terrified, he doesn’t understand the stir of feelings inside his guts.

What if Chanyeol finds them like this? What if Jongdae—who knows _everyone_ in the neighborhood, literally—hears about it, from someone in the mass of bodies around them? What if—

He doesn’t know. Baekhyun knows nothing.

The only thing he knows, for sure, is the press of Kyungsoo’s lips against his own.

Those pretty, thick, carefully carved lips, always too red for Baekhyun’s liking—he’s taken an immense pleasure, lately, of watching them stretch into a smile, a scowl, a pout, or just sit quietly on Kyungsoo’s face, serene and beautiful, entrancing.

He’s not used to them, however, pressing against his own—not at all, far from it; in fact, Baekhyun isn’t even used to Kyungsoo _talking_ all that much. He usually takes care of their conversations almost on his own, shouldering and guiding them and letting Kyungsoo simply smile along to his constant rambling.

He usually doesn’t mind, far from it—Baekhyun thrives under it, loves being the object of Kyungsoo’s attention, adores being the reason of his smile. Stories come to him, in that case, almost instantly—it’s just so easy, with Kyungsoo. Words flow out of his mouth and he starts talking so fast he doesn’t even remember what he’s saying, but then Kyungsoo is there to remind him of it, to ask him about one little detail and Baekhyun is at it again, flourishing under Kyungsoo’s genuine curiosity.

But right now—right now, Kyungsoo is the one taking matters into his own hand, leading him. Baekhyun is stunned, as Kyungsoo’s lips press almost insistently against his, parting slightly to let way for a short exhale against his mouth. He thinks he can hear a sound catch in Kyungsoo’s throat, but he’s not sure, because those lips are back on his again, and words—just like his thoughts—escape him.

And Baekhyun, helpless and terrified, melts into it, and kisses him back.

There’s something inherently _strange_ yet incredibly _addictive_ about that kiss, something that makes the bells inside Baekhyun’s head blare and flash, loud despite the echoes of “Girl” playing all around them—oh, the irony! —and the low lights that disguise them in the crowd.

It’s also odd how it feels like it’s Kyungsoo who has all the control—Baekhyun feels like a puddle of mud facing him, _kissing_ him, desperate and helpless, and Kyungsoo is the one guiding their mouths and keeping their hands tied. Baekhyun has no idea what, were he left on his own devices, he would have done without Kyungsoo.

But then Kyungsoo pulls away (and Baekhyun hates himself for chasing after his lips) but it isn’t enough—they part, and Baekhyun is suddenly faced with what they’ve just _done_.

Kyungsoo is staring at him, eyes so wide they look terrified—and maybe he _is_ terrified, Baekhyun thinks distractedly—but so goddamn hopeful it makes Baekhyun’s heart ache.

And so Kyungsoo stares, stares, stares some more, and Baekhyun can’t do anything but stare back.

He’s pretty sure he’s blushing. He’s also pretty sure he’s just gone through a life-changing moment, just now, and that this _kiss_ —or whatever it is—will become a massive turning point in his simple, insignificant existence, or something. He doesn’t know what it means yet. He doesn’t _want_ to know either.

Then Kyungsoo licks his lips, and all rational thoughts evaporate from Baekhyun’s mind. “Aren’t you gonna—” Kyungsoo starts, before he clears his throat, and tries a little louder—because oh, _right_ , they’re at a concert, right now, and Lee Moonsae is still crooning from the front of the room up on that stage, and Baekhyun suddenly remembers exactly where he is. _Holy shit_. “Aren’t you gonna say something?”

Baekhyun blinks. Kyungsoo raises his eyebrows. He gradually looks more and more scared and less and less hopeful, and _no_ , that’s _not_ what Baekhyun wants—except _yes_ , this _is_ scary and all sorts of ridiculous and Kyungsoo _should_ be terrified, as Baekhyun definitely _is_ —

“Baekhyun?” Kyungsoo’s voice is shaking, and Baekhyun shakes his head.

If Jongdae were to see him, right now, he’d probably be in stitches, and say something like, _“Byun Baekhyun? Our shameless mess of a Byun Baekhyun? Flustered? Now_ that’s _something I never thought I’d be alive to see!”_

Except, even though Jongdae is somewhere in that crowd, he doesn’t see Baekhyun, nor has he seen a thing—well, Baekhyun hopes the _fuck_ Jongdae hasn’t seen a thing—and so there’s no one to realize just how non-Baekhyun-like Baekhyun is currently acting and feeling.

Well. No one, except Do Kyungsoo.

Baekhyun swallows, and watches as Kyungsoo does the same. “Alright, okay, that was a mistake, I—I’m really, _truly_ sorry—”

“No!” Baekhyun cuts, and hey, would you hear that! Baekhyun’s first and only word in over five minutes! Jongdae would truly be impressed.

Baekhyun almost wishes Jongdae was there to make fun of him. _Almost_.

Kyungsoo startles, watches him with that hopeful look, and Baekhyun wants to squirm and run away and wake up from this dream that seems way too fucking real. “No?”

Baekhyun licks his lips and brings his hands to his face—successfully tearing them away from Kyungsoo’s. He already misses their warmth. “I mean—um,” he breathes out, “I don’t think I…”

 _Words, Baekhyun, words. You know how to use those, right? That’s one thing you’re good at. Words. So where have yours gone all of a sudden?_ He’s too busy breathing, reminding himself to breathe, that he almost misses the press of a hand against his shoulder.

When he looks up, he doesn’t find Kyungsoo any inch closer—and both his hands are still by his sides, which only means—

“You guys good there?” Chanyeol’s deep, gravelly voice asks from behind him, and Baekhyun jumps, almost replies with, _No, they’re fucking not, so could you leave us alone, please?_

Except, maybe, the distraction is more than welcome—and so he turns, moves his hands away from his face, and plasters what he hopes is the subtlest, most charming smile he possesses. Baekhyun is good at being charming.

Chanyeol still seems unsure, though. His eyes keep moving between Baekhyun and Kyungsoo like he can find his answers in the looks they might exchange—and he might have, if Baekhyun wasn’t so set on staring back at Chanyeol, now, unwavering and hoping Kyungsoo doesn’t… do something. Like kiss him again (yes, please). Or ask him about it (oh _hell_ , no). Just— _something_.

But then, Chanyeol’s eyes rest on Kyungsoo, and they do that weird telepathic thing where they seem to talk with their eyes that Baekhyun has always found fascinating—but right now, it only leaves him uneasy, because it _shows_ that Chanyeol probably knows more than he lets on about this, whatever it is, and Baekhyun feels suddenly left out.

He wants to leave.

He wants to leave, Lee Moonsae be damned. He wasn’t even supposed to _be_ here in the first place, technically—Kyungsoo told him he had gotten those tickets for Chanyeol, and had Jongdae not beaten him to it first, he would’ve gone with his best friend, as planned. So, really, it was all Jongdae’s fault, if any of this happens, if Baekhyun is feeling like a fucking mess, if Kyungsoo kissed—

Wait. Had it all gone according to plan, would Kyungsoo have kissed Chanyeol instead, then?

 _No_. Baekhyun doesn’t know why the thought leaves him so unhappy, but he’s glad he can put an end to that train of thought. No more Kissing Kyungsoos. Nope.

He chances a look towards him, and finds him with his own eyes resolutely staring at his shoes—and wow, fuck, okay, Baekhyun wants to _die_. He hates feeling like he’s the cause for Kyungsoo’s _un_ happiness, rather than his _happiness_.

Goddamn it.

Why is it that his thoughts are racing, multiplying by the second, but he can’t get a word out?

He doesn’t even have time to wonder any further, as Chanyeol speaks again. “Okay, so I guess something happened between you two, but it’s kind of getting late, and Jongdae’s already outside waiting for us, so.”

The show is already over? Good God, it _is_ —Baekhyun looks around him, at the hall already emptying itself, at the now empty stage. He just missed most of what must have been an amazing end to an amazing concert.

Chanyeol sighs, and Baekhyun can see he obviously tries to look determined and firm, but only ends up looking even more so worried than anything. “Can you guys just pretend to be okay on our ride home? For me? As a birthday wish?” He adds, with a tiny voice, “Please?”

Baekhyun watches as Kyungsoo looks up, nods, attempts a smile. His heart tightens at the sight, constricts, and Baekhyun is certain he loses his breath right then and there.

He nods in turn—what choice does he have anyway?—and Chanyeol exhales loudly. “Thank _fuck_. Now let’s go, we don’t have all night.”

Outside, Jongdae welcomes them with infinite praises of the show, not once stopping even for breathing. (Baekhyun is secretly glad—that way, Jongdae doesn’t notice his own silence, and he can get a retold version of the part of the concert he’s missed. Not that he cares that much—but Baekhyun would rather focus on that than the memory of Kyungsoo’s lips against his own.) Chanyeol hums and agrees at his words, and Baekhyun decides he might as well play along too, not to raise any suspicions. He still doesn’t speak a word, though, and keeps away from Jongdae—in case the younger sees his still flaming cheeks, and asks questions he’d rather not have to answer.

Kyungsoo is uncharacteristically quiet—even more so than usual, as he doesn’t speak a word, not unlike Baekhyun. He’s smiling, softly, though it looks sad, but Baekhyun counts it as _something_.

That kiss— _their_ kiss—it didn’t ruin anything, right? It couldn’t have… right? It was most likely a mistake, and Baekhyun is ready to forgive Kyungsoo, and to get back to how things were before between the two of them—easy and close and _different_ , but so special Baekhyun is ready to kill for things to remain the same.

(He doesn’t dwell on the fact that, despite everything, he secretly wishes from very deep down within himself that the kiss _wasn’t_ a mistake. He knows it to be odd—but it wouldn’t be the first time he’s felt like this, and if Kyungsoo likely to share his feelings, then what wrong could there be?)

When they reach the alley, Jongdae bids them farewell, already heading home. Baekhyun should go, too. He lives right under Jongdae’s place. He should _go_.

As soon as Jongdae is gone, silence falls upon the three of them, and Baekhyun can feel Chanyeol’s eyes on him.

“Hey,” he says, voice soft in the night. Baekhyun stares straight ahead. In the corner of his eye, he sees that Chanyeol has stopped walking, but he himself hasn’t—and neither has Kyungsoo, who decidedly isn’t looking at Baekhyun, either.

“Hey, _both_ of you!” Chanyeol repeats, louder this time, and Baekhyun stops, because he _has_ to. “Would you just—talk to me, or something?”

“There’s nothing to tell, Chanyeollie,” Kyungsoo says. He’s stopped walking too, and Baekhyun doesn’t even realize he’s staring at him until he’s looking right at him, at his profile under the pale street lights, at the way his lips speak the soft words he’s saying in a low, soothing voice. “It’s getting late, we’ll wake everyone up if we stay talking in the streets.”

“But—”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Kyungsoo turns his head over his shoulder, smiling at Chanyeol. “Don’t you worry about it.” Then, he turns to look straight at Baekhyun, and maybe Baekhyun is blushing again—where does that even come from? “Goodnight, Baekhyun.”

And with that, Kyungsoo starts walking again, and Baekhyun watches him leave, speechless.

When Kyungsoo closes the door behind him, Baekhyun hears Chanyeol approach closer, his footsteps echoing all around them in the cold night air of November. “Baekhyunnie.”

Baekhyun turns, sees Chanyeol observing him with kind but hard eyes, and it’s a look he didn’t think Chanyeol capable of. It’s odd, but it’s not the weirdest thing that’s happened to him tonight.

Chanyeol smiles, but it’s twisted with something edging on sadness, and Baekhyun doesn’t _understand_. “Don’t ruin things, yeah? I know you won’t, but…” He closes his mouth, and just nods. “Anyway. I’ll see you tomorrow, Baekhyun.”

And with those last words, Chanyeol in turns enters his house—leaving Baekhyun out in the alley, alone, lost, and a little lonely, with the moon as his sole company.

***

The next morning, by some miracle or another, Baekhyun seemingly— _finally_ —regains his words and somewhat coherent thoughts, and Kim Jongdae is the first one to witness all of it.

Of course he is. He’s Baekhyun’s best-friend-confidant-partner-in-crime, after all. (though Kyungsoo has dipped his toe in each of those roles in Baekhyun’s life, as well, but it’s _much_ different than what it is with Jongdae. For starters, Baekhyun has _no_ desire whatsoever to kiss Jongdae—not that it has to do with _anything_.)

It occurs at breakfast, with a sleepy Baekhyun still trying to wake up through his sleep-hazed mind and open his sleep-closed eyes, shoving in his food with sleep-heavy hands and swallowing his rice with sleepy laziness. In short, Baekhyun is sleepy—too sleepy to think about the night before, about what happened the night before, to even remember _anything_ about—

“Rise and shine, Byun Baekhyun!” Jongdae’s voice then roars from the hall, only a few feet away.

Baekhyun grumbles his hellos, leans back and peeks his head outside of the door of the living room (that also serves as a dining room, because their flat is ridiculously small for four people while it wouldn’t even sustain _one_ person alone, but that’s a thought for another morning—one when Baekhyun would actually be awake enough to feel miserable about it).

He sees Jongdae taking off his shoes and walking confidently towards him, jacket too big around him (probably Jongdeok’s), ruffling his hair as he makes his way inside the room. “You’re not gonna say anything back? Are you still mute, or something? Is it because of some bet you lost?”

“What?” Baekhyun says around another bite of rice. What bet? “Why would I be mute?”

Jongdae eyes him with a knowing stare, like Baekhyun is supposed to know what he’s referring to. Baekhyun is so fucking _sleepy_. He doesn’t have the energy to even bother to _try_ understanding. “Uh, hello? You think I wouldn’t notice you didn’t say a word after the concert? What happened back there anyway, huh?”

The concert? Oh, right, the concert. Lee Moonsae’s. For Baekhyun’s—no, wait, Chanyeol’s birthday, yeah. Because Kyungsoo got him tickets—Chanyeol, not Baekhyun—but then Baekhyun was invited instead since Jongdae had gotten tickets for Chanyeol first and Kyungsoo was so _cute_ in his layered sweatshirts and Baekhyun still remembers the way his lips moved against his own—

Wait, _shit_. _Holy shit._

“Holy shit,” he breathes out, not swallowing his bite of rice. There are grains that fall on the carpet, and his mother would probably throw a fit, were she there to see him. He’s pretty sure he’s blushing, too. “Holy—oh my _God_ , Jongdae.”

“Ha! So something _did_ happen,” Jongdae snickers. He crosses his legs and scoots quickly over to Baekhyun’s side, eyes wide with excitement and his mouth curling at the corners, cradling his chin between his open palms. “Tell me, then. Who was it? It’s got to be a kiss, right? Who was it who was it who was it who was it—”

“It was—” Baekhyun starts, but then stops, because—he can’t tell Jongdae _that_. Not now. Can he? That’s like, totally not what _brothers_ would tell each other. Not the type of brothers they are. What would he sound like anyway?

_Yeah, man, just, you know. Kissed one of our best friends. Male best friends. Kyungsoo, yeah. No big deal! Totally not gay, though, that I’m sure of it._

It is one thing Baekhyun _is_ sure of—or somewhat, at least. The fact that he’s kissed Kyungsoo—the undeniable fact that he’s _wanted_ it, too, and has pretty much initiated it, in a way—doesn’t change the (other) fact that he still likes— _loves_ —girls, because he still gets thrills when Taeyeon, Seungsoo’s friend from school, does ever so much as smile his way. He still _wants_ her—still fantasizes about her, the way she braids her hair distractedly, or kissing her and doing other things—as much as he’s thought about… well. Kyungsoo. Amongst other things.

Baekhyun panics, because none of this makes any sense—how can he want _both_ of those things? How is it even fathomable for him to be…

Is he really just _that_ sexually frustrated? Jesus, that’s pathetic.

It’s too early for an existential crisis, though—and much too early for any sort of panic, either. So Baekhyun resorts to the one thing he knows in those situations: lying.

“Uh, sadly, it wasn’t Taeyeon-noona,” he decides to admit. That’s technically not a lie—Kyungsoo looks _nothing_ like Taeyeon. Thankfully. That would just complicate things even further. “But it was just—I don’t know. Some girl. She was hot. Very nice lips. And mouth. And eyes. Big, brown, pretty eyes.”

“Do we know her?” Jongdae asks, leaning closer, curious and inquiring, already trying to find out who Baekhyun is talking about.

(Baekhyun knows, because he knows Jongdae’s looks, and the one he’s wearing right now hides behind his eyes the whirring of his mind trying to piece everything together. Too bad Baekhyun is talking about a fictive girl who seemingly takes a _little_ too much from Kyungsoo. Subtlety has never been one of his strengths, after all.)

“ _No!_ I mean—no,” Baekhyun tries again, calmer. He prays to every God in existence—might there be more than one—that Jongdae doesn’t see through his lies, even though he knows deep down inside he probably does. The best friend thing is really working against him. “You know how dark it was inside the hall. Couldn’t see a damn thing!”

“Right,” says Jongdae, now deadpan and fixing Baekhyun with an unimpressed look. “Cause you could _definitely_ see her big brown eyes and pretty lips—and _boobs_ , I’m sure, because you’re totally a boob guy—but God forbid, you couldn’t see a thing! Totally couldn’t see her beautiful pretty-eyed-pretty-lipped face! The hall was _too dark_!” Jongdae then leans back, dropping his act and stealing a bite of Baekhyun’s forgotten rice. “If you don’t want to tell me, Baekhyunnie, that’s fine. But don’t try to lie through it. You’re hurting my feelings.”

Oh, damn it. Jongdae has no right to play the Victimized Best Friend card—especially not now, as Baekhyun already feels bad enough for keeping something from him, let alone being found out.

He sighs, and drops his chopsticks inside his rice bowl. He isn’t that hungry anymore, anyway. “If I tell you, you have to promise me something.”

Jongdae already perks up, leaning in with an accomplice smile. “I’ll keep my mouth sealed shut, if that’s what you’re asking. We’re _best friends_ , Baekhyun. You know you can trust me with anything.”

“I know that,” Baekhyun sighs, but it’s wistful, because he still doesn’t know if ‘ _anything_ ’ covers kissing boys—and enjoying it—or just, boys, _boys_ , in general. “But promise, still. And promise you won’t laugh. Or freak out.”

Now, Jongdae looks a bit more intrigued, and a bit wary, too. “Well. I wasn’t really planning on freaking out.” He narrows his eyes at Baekhyun, and Baekhyun swallows. Has he been found out already? He hasn’t even said anything—oh God, is he really that obvious?

But then, Jongdae speaks again, and Baekhyun almost deflates in relief. “It’s not Kang Seulgi, is it?”

Baekhyun snorts so loud and laughs so hard Jongdae looks offended. “Oh God—no, _never_.”

“Oh. Alright,” Jongdae says, and if Baekhyun wasn’t so busy being relieved, he wouldn’t hesitate to point out Jongdae’s blush—but Jongdae is quick, and regains his composure a little too fast. “So who was it, then? Was she really ugly?”

“Not ugly,” Baekhyun tuts. “God, Jongdae, you can be incredibly superficial.”

“Got my priorities set straight.”

“Sure you do.”

“ _Stop_ changing the subject!” Jongdae whines, because that’s what he does. “Are you not gonna tell me?”

Baekhyun starts piling up the plates on the small coffee table in the room, letting out another sigh. He _should_ tell Jongdae—he _has_ to—but maybe… maybe not now. Maybe once he’s figured out some things, like the whole logic behind his feelings and thoughts—if there’s even one—or if he can tell Jongdae these things at all. Isn’t there some sort of set of rules he should go about in those situations? It would help a shitload. Baekhyun wouldn’t feel so fucking lost.

He already feels lost enough as he is. He doesn’t need feelings to get in the way.

How did Kyungsoo even figure his own shit out? Baekhyun figures he must have, at least some part of it—not anyone would just lean up and kiss their friend, no matter how close they are, just for the fun of trying things, or whatever. Not with the amount of care and feeling Kyungsoo had shown. Not with the way he had looked, the depth of his eyes, the glistening quality of his kiss-swollen lips—

 _You’re distracted. Focus, Byun Baekhyun_. “I’ll tell you in due time,” Baekhyun says, a little more serious. He resumes cleaning up, and stands up swiftly to step out and dump the dishes in the sink by the entrance. “I think… I’m still a bit embarrassed.”

It’s half a truth—Baekhyun isn’t embarrassed, per se, he’s just very lost and feels very weird and it’s too soon to have it all out there, already.

Jongdae, who stands in the hall, coos—he coos at Baekhyun, his eyes turning into two curving slits on his face, and Baekhyun thinks it looks kinda cute, actually. “Ooh, does our Byun Baekhyun have a crush? That’s oh so lovely!”

Baekhyun groans, and pushes him out of the way as he walks past him to head to his room. Their apartment is so tiny that Jongdae ends up back in the living room as he stumbles to get back on his feet. “Piss off, Jongdae.”

“You’re not denying it!” he snickers anyway, following Baekhyun inside his and his brother’s room. “Alright, then, dear friend. I’ll let you come to me, your favourite love guru, when you’re ready. I shall provide you with the best relationship advice—and extra.”

“And extra?” Baekhyun raises an eyebrow, looking through his clothes and picking an outfit for the day. He should probably clean up first, but the sink is all the way down to the front of their tiny basement. Eh.

“And _extra_ ,” Jongdae repeats. “You know.” He then starts moving his hips, or swaying, or whatever it is that he’s doing with his hands at the level of his groin, and Baekhyun stares him down with the most deadpan look he can manage. When Jongdae looks up, he at _least_ has the decency to look ashamed. Good. “Well.” He clears his throat. “Someone’s gotta teach you those things.”

“You’ve learned everything you know from porn, Kim Jongdae,” Baekhyun snorts. He pulls his pajama shirt over his head and puts on a discarded long-sleeved t-shirt lying around. Might be his brother’s, but it doesn’t smell, so it’ll have to do. “Not sure I wanna trust your advice on that.”

“You’ll still come to me, though! I’m the only friend willing to listen.”

That’s not true—there’s Kyungsoo, except Baekhyun doubts Kyungsoo wants to hear Baekhyun freak out about Kyungsoo. Damn it.

He could go to Yixing, too—they’ve grown immeasurably close since he’s moved in, and it might be from more than Yixing’s kindness, at least on Baekhyun’s end. But he’s already got a Kyungsoo to deal with, and he doesn’t need to add a Yixing to the list. Still, though—he _could_ go to Yixing. There’s something that tells him it might be a wiser choice, rather than going straight for Jongdae’s boisterous, often misinformed advice.

But admitting that would only pique at Jongdae’s ego even more, and so Baekhyun settles for teasing his best friend. That doesn’t get boring. “No, you’re not. You’re just the only friend I have who doesn’t have a life of his own.”

Jongdae gapes at him, and Baekhyun laughs. A chase begins—that’s only momentarily halted for Baekhyun to brush his teeth before they leave—and Baekhyun, breathless, figures he’s lucky enough to have a best friend like Jongdae around, no matter what the future might bring.

***

The day passes almost too normally. Baekhyun feels a little antsy about it.

Because really, nothing changes aside from the fact that Kyungsoo seemingly is “sick, needs time to recover, and is taking that opportunity to study,” as Chanyeol had told him. Those were apparently Kyungsoo’s reported words, and knowing Kyungsoo, it’s probably true.

They don’t have school today, as it is Saturday, which leaves very few options for Baekhyun of things to do—it’s only now that Kyungsoo is nowhere to be seen, or approached, or even fathomably _talkable_ (with the whole kissing thing, it gets difficult, you know) that Baekhyun truly realizes just how big of a role his friend actually plays in his life. Jongdae might be his best friend, and Chanyeol his partner in crime, Kyungsoo remains something _more_ , feelings aside. Or maybe feelings involved, actually.

Now’s not the time, though.

Jongdae is too perceptive for Baekhyun to stick with him. After a quick detour at Old Man Seong’s shop, where they got snacks for them to share on their way back, Baekhyun had left him for Chanyeol (though Jongdae had taken it rather well; it’s not as though they’re the type to get bitter about things like _that_ ). But hanging out with Chanyeol had felt strange—as though Baekhyun was being constantly observed, and even if Baekhyun wanted to tell him about the whole _oh-my-God-Kyungsoo-kissed-me-last-night_ thing, it just felt… out of place. It did already the night before, as Chanyeol had seemed more perceptive than Baekhyun would have thought, and though they make a great pair and don’t leave much to guess to the other, Baekhyun feels as though this isn’t something he’s ready to share with Chanyeol yet—especially not if Chanyeol most likely has heard the story from Kyungsoo, and would see things differently, too.

It’s now much later in the evening, and after a modest dinner at home, Baekhyun does what he does in times like these, when his thoughts are too loud and incomprehensible in his head and he needs more air to breathe than usual, even when he doesn’t really notice it himself.

When his mother sees him grab his jacket, after washing the dishes, she intercepts him in the hall by the sink. “Where do you think you’re going, young man?”

Baekhyun leans up and kisses her forehead, like he’s seen his brother do thousands of times before. He’s always been the more affectionate between his brother and him, but even that, Baekhyun isn’t used to—it’s a habit he’s only picked up recently, and doesn’t really like because it reminds him of how much he’s grown and how old he is, despite his young age.

“Just up the roof, mom,” he tells her when he leans back. “I won’t be long, and you can just, you know. Scream, if you need me.”

His mom rolls her eyes at him, but when she looks at him again, it’s softer around the edges, like she knows why he’s going up there. Baekhyun hopes she doesn’t, not yet, not now, when he isn’t ready. “Alright, son. Don’t think too hard, up there. You can also just stay here, and talk to your old mother, huh?”

“And hear you complain about dad till midnight?” Baekhyun snorts, but it’s said with a smile. “Don’t stay up too late, mom.”

“I’m your mother, Byun Baekhyun! I should be saying those things to _you_!”

Baekhyun laughs when he steps outside, the air frisk against his skin. He tightens his jacket around him. He should have worn an extra layer, maybe; a sweatshirt or something. Eh. It’ll do.

He climbs up the stairs from the basement to the main ground, then rounds the small building, heading for the ladder by the side. The house above theirs is Jongdae’s, and Baekhyun picked up his roof-climbing habit by the youngest Kim himself (obviously). The small climb is as familiar as it is slightly nostalgic.

He makes it to the top in a matter of moments, carefully stepping over the edges to advance towards the centre, where Jongdeok and Jongdae always leave at least one blanket and a folded chair, in the wooden box their dad built up there just for them. Baekhyun takes out the blanket, covers his upper buddy with it, and makes sure there’s a bit of it covering his bum before he sits down on the concrete of the roof itself.

Already, he feels warmer. It might be the blanket, or just what it means, to be up here, and the comfort it always brings him.

Up here, usually, thinking gets easier—mostly because Baekhyun has no choice but to listen to his own thoughts, unable to be drowned by some noise or another, by some distraction from the back of his ever-so-fast paced mind. Up on the roof, everything is suddenly so toned down and serene, even if the ground isn’t all that far down. Maybe it’s the fact that he is, in a way, above the level at which he lives his life constantly, and all the worries and bothering thoughts that come with it. Or maybe it’s simply the impression Baekhyun gets of being closer to the sky.

Right now, Baekhyun suddenly feels like flying. Just—taking off, flying away, being free. Not of anything—there’s nothing holding him down, really—but it’s just that yearning that never leaves him, that constantly makes him dream of bigger and better things, of a version of himself who gets to see the world and learn every little thing about it.

That version of himself is so distant, so far away, right now—as much as it also seems closer than ever.

Baekhyun thinks about many things.

He thinks of Kyungsoo—of the kiss, yeah, sure, but also of Kyungsoo _himself_ , of the boy with not-so-shy smiles once you get to know him, with well-dosed charm and malice always present in his eyes, though it’s often softened with his overwhelming _kindness_. Out of the five of them—now six, with Yixing in the picture—Baekhyun still thinks Kyungsoo has the biggest and softest heart of them all.

It doesn’t explain the kiss. Very little explains that goddamn fucking _kiss_. And even up here, higher up the neighborhood and that bit closer to the stars, Baekhyun can’t find an answer to his questions—they already make so little sense to him—but through the confusion, he feels a pinprick of bubbling happiness, just at some _thoughts_. Being with Kyungsoo. Kissing Kyungsoo. Hell, even just… Kyungsoo _himself_ , that’s some form of happiness Baekhyun definitely is yearning.

Is happiness an option?

Baekhyun thinks of what it means. He’s never had a problem with other boys liking boys—he would like himself, if he could, because honestly, he’s _quite_ the catch—but never had he considered himself _being_ one of those boys. Especially not when girls still make him lose his balance and make his heart beat twice as fast as normal—things that now Kyungsoo seemingly gets to do, too, and maybe (just maybe) always has.

He sighs, and the thick cold air around him clouds up almost as fast as it dissipates right after.

Does all that shit come with growing up? Baekhyun isn’t sure he wants any of it, but he guesses he doesn’t really have a choice. If anything, Kyungsoo’s kiss remains something that has happened and that he will eventually have to deal with—just like his upcoming college entrance exams, that are taking up most of his (and even more of Kyungsoo’s) time, energy, and thoughts.

He thinks about his studies that are going very well, far too well, in fact—he doesn’t even know what he wants to _do_ , so what’s the use of a scholarship he doesn’t even understand the use for? That is, if he ever gets it at all. He doesn’t really worry, but there are the looks his mother gives him, full of pride and expectations, that Baekhyun doesn’t want to see waver. He needs to success.

Baekhyun wonders what Kyungsoo would think of that. Would Kyungsoo choose happiness over success, or the opposite?

Maybe he’s already given Baekhyun his answer.

He looks up to the sky, cloudy and still thick with light. From their tiny home in Ssangmun-dong, they can see very little of the stars, up here. But Baekhyun can still pick out a few, and he guesses that, at least, he’s got the few of them to keep him company, tonight.

***

The next day, after a quick lunch at Chanyeol’s—Yoora truly is a great cook, so much so that Baekhyun and Baekbeom often get their lunch _there_ and not at the Byuns—Baekhyun finds himself sitting on the floor of Junmyeon’s room, sandwiched between him and Yixing on both of his sides. Some American film with subtitles is playing on Junmyeon’s TV, and Baekhyun really can’t bother with the subtitles—mostly because he doesn’t need them, and they can get a bit distracting, and really, the movie fucking sucks.

He sighs deeply.

“So do you guys just… hang out? Like that? In your room?” Baekhyun asks, turning to Junmyeon, who resolutely stares straight ahead at the screen. Baekhyun can’t tell if he’s focused or only pretending to be.

“We’re not all the type to run around and wreak havoc, Baekhyun,” Junmyeon sighs. His cheeks a little red, and have been ever since Baekhyun had knocked on his bedroom’s door, a few moments before. With the cold temperatures wafting in, Baekhyun figures it’s just a little cold. Maybe he should scoot away from him.

“Yeah,” agrees Yixing next to him. Baekhyun turns to find him smiling—he’s always smiling—eyes soft and not unlike Junmyeon’s in the way they seem to scream of kindness. The dimple in his cheek is showing, though subtly. “Sometimes it’s just nice to, you know. Sit down, have a chat. Talk about stuff.”

“You two talk about _stuff_. While watching bad movies?” Baekhyun had noticed how Yixing and Junmyeon had grown closer, and Yixing just seems like the type to talk about stuff to—he’s thought about it himself, after all. He just hadn’t figured the both of them would that, so often, together.

Junmyeon shrugs. “Why not?” He shrugs, then turns to look at Baekhyun quizzically. The blush of his cheeks persists. “Why are you here anyway? Shouldn’t you be with Jongdae, or Kyungsoo, or someone?”

Baekhyun would raise an eyebrow at retort at that, and he almost does—but the reminder of Kyungsoo makes him swallow his words, and he sighs deeply. “Do you guys have room for me in your stuff talks? I might have stuff of my own to talk about.”

The night up at the roof might not have been enough, after all.

“Like you ever shut up, Baekhyunnie,” Yixing chuckles, and Baekhyun joins him, even for just a moment. “Of course you can talk to us.”

It’s kind of cute, how Yixing refers to him and Junmyeon as “ _us_.” Baekhyun wonders if he and Kyungsoo form an “ _us_ ,” too—and what kind of “ _us_ ” it would even be.

Junmyeon finally seems to have his attention piqued, as he turns fully towards Baekhyun, this time, observing him with worry. “Is everything alright, Baekhyun? Did you fight with one of the guys, or what?”

Baekhyun snorts. “No, silly,” he says. “You know the lot of us. We don’t fight, we’re not petty like that. It’s just…” He pauses, shifting his eyes between Yixing and Junmyeon, who are looking at him intently, both patient and expecting. “Before I say anything, though, could you stop doing that whole parent look thing? I really feel like you two are about to say something like, ‘ _We’re here for you, son_ ,’ or like, ‘ _We’ll love you no matter what, darling_.’” Another pause. “Actually, you both are the type to do just that, so please don’t.”

“Please know that we _do_ love you no matter what, though,” Yixing says. How are things so easy, for Yixing? How do emotions seem to come and go out of him so freely? Baekhyun wonders if he’s the same, he’s never really had to think about those things.

“You _really_ make us sound like his dads, now, Xing,” says Junmyeon, but then, he freezes—like he realizes what he’s just said—and doesn’t say another word, immobile.

Baekhyun probes him with a finger. “You alright, hyung? I was joking, you know. If you really can’t help being a dad about things, it’s fine—”

“Junmyeon-ah is just being stupid,” Yixing cuts with a sigh. He’s not looking at Baekhyun, though, choosing instead to fix Junmyeon with a steady look—but then he glances at Baekhyun and keeps his eyes there, somehow seeming more patient than they were before, if that’s even possible. “So. What kind of stuff do you wanna talk about, son?”

Baekhyun groans. “Oh, don’t _start_.” He hides his face in his hands, mumbling to himself. He can hear Yixing giggle next to him, and that’s just not _fair_.

“I know you, Baekhyun,” Junmyeon says next to him, and Baekhyun can hear he’s smiling, albeit shyly, through his voice. “If you’ve come all the way here to me—or maybe, now, to _us_ —it’s because something is really troubling you.”

It is. The few times when Junmyeon becomes his confidant is when Baekhyun truly needs advice on things that might be a little too scary and too big for him to deal with—like when he and Jongdae fought and it had gotten so bad they had both said things they really didn’t mean but couldn’t forgive each other for, or the time when Baekbeom enlisted and he hadn’t known how to deal with it. Things like that are the type that bring Baekhyun to Junmyeon, whom he’s always seen as someone so steady and trustworthy—not any more or less than his other friends, but just more mature, maybe. Junmyeon is a tad bit older, after all—maybe it was the reassurance which Baekhyun needed most.

He removes his hands from his face, and decides to bring his knees up to his chest, hugging them closely. It reminds him of Kyungsoo. “It’s serious stuff, this time.”

“Isn’t it always?” Junmyeon asks. His voice has grown soft.

“No, I mean—this time, it’s like, _real_ serious.”

“We can handle serious,” Yixing provides. “So what’s up?”

How should Baekhyun even go about this? What should he say _now_ —now that the time is here, now that he has to just… let people know? Is this really the right thing to do? What if they take it the wrong way, what if it completely destroys their friendship—

“I kissed Kyungsoo.”

It comes out in one breath, so fast and so low that even Baekhyun thinks he’s missed it—but he really must have said it, because he catches Junmyeon’s tiny gasp, just as low and almost imperceptible as his own words. It’s like his brain took over his thoughts, and got rid of the pressure all at once for him—and Baekhyun isn’t sure if he’s thankful for that.

Silence stretches for what feels like forever, only broken by the soft English words spoken by some cowboy characters on Junmyeon’s tiny TV. Baekhyun doesn’t dare move, look up, say another word.

But then, Yixing speaks up. “Did he kiss you back?”

Wait— _what_? “Hyung, is that _really_ important right now—”

“Did he, though?” Yixing insists, voice steady and—is that compassion, in his tone?

Baekhyun licks his lips. “Well, technically, _he’s_ the one who kissed me first. I just happened to—to have kissed him back.” Really, had he not, they could have just played it off as some silly mistake. Baekhyun would have been content pretending it had never happened, if only his brain wasn’t so intent on reminding him of the instance every five minutes.

“Holy shit,” Junmyeon breathes out next to him, and Baekhyun snorts nervously.

“I know, right?” His voice almost cracks, but he’s not crying. He’s just really fucking terrified, all of a sudden.

What’s with him and being scared of things _after_ they happen, anyway? Shouldn’t it be the other way around—so that those things don’t actually happen, at all? It would save him a shitload of trouble and overthinking, thank you very much.

Or maybe not. But the point remains—Baekhyun is terrified, and Yixing still hasn’t said another word—

“So Kyungsoo kissed you and you kissed him back—because you wanted it, I think,” Yixing summarizes. Calmly. How does he do it?

“Yeah, that’s right, hyung—I mean, I don’t _know_ , but—”

“I don’t see anything wrong with that,” he adds, and yeah, okay, things are _way_ too easy with Yixing. Either the guy’s a fucking angel who can do no harm or the devil himself, sent on Earth to charm Baekhyun and mess with his brain.

It’s suddenly so hot, in the room, despite the late November wind whistling outside the windows.

Baekhyun turns to Junmyeon, who has an unreadable look on his face. “Hyung? Are you gonna say something?”

But it seems like Yixing has other plans, because he speaks up again, and places a hand on Baekhyun’s knee, prompting him to turn towards him. “Baekhyunnie. When did this happen?”

Baekhyun swallows. “Last Friday.”

Yixing raises his eyebrows. “Only? I thought—okay, then.”

What does he mean, _only_? “You thought what?”

A shrug. “Just, you know. With the way Kyungsoo looks at you, and the way _you_ look at _him_ , I would’ve thought it was more of a… long-lasting thing.”

Baekhyun’s eyes must be bulging, as he simply cannot comprehend what he’s hearing. “Yixing-hyung, no offense, but would I really be here if it was the case?” Is that even plausible at all?

If Yixing thinks so, then, maybe… could it be?

“So do you like him, then?” Junmyeon says next to him. He’s still got that weird look on his face, but it’s calm, and patient, though odd. “Kyungsoo. Do you like him?”

Does Baekhyun like Kyungsoo? “Yes,” he says, “but it’s complicated. It’s not just him, it’s… _everything_. That’s the scary part.” It feels good to say it, out loud.

“You mean, being gay,” Yixing prompts, and Baekhyun winces.

“I don’t—I mean… Sure, I like boys. Or Kyungsoo, at least. But… girls, man. They’re _great_ ,” Baekhyun laughs nervously. “And I don’t think I could be gay, because, well. _Girls_ , you know.”

“That’s a thing, you know,” Junmyeon offers, then, and Baekhyun stops.

“What?

“Being into boys _and_ girls. It is a thing.” Junmyeon’s voice, like his face, is unreadable.

“It is?” Baekhyun asks. “How do you even know? And why aren’t you freaking out about this stuff? I mean… It is pretty fucked up.”

Baekhyun is freaking out, anyway. His heart is doing backflips and he’s still thinking about Kyungsoo’s lips and kissing him again and what it all means, what it might mean, and the fact that he’s told two of his friends—one of which he’s only known for a couple months, all things considered—and that’s enough to make him freak out quite a lot.

Yixing suddenly stands up, and moves to sit in front of Baekhyun and Junmyeon, forming a triangle with the three of them as the ends. That way, Baekhyun can see both Junmyeon and Yixing staring at him—and staring at each other, too, exchanging much more than Baekhyun can tell simply through their looks.

“It is a thing,” Yixing says, smiling, after a moment. “Being into boys, and girls, and everyone in between.” Then, he points both his thumbs towards himself. “I’m the living proof of that, Baekhyun.”

Oh.

 _Oh_. Shit.

Who would have thought?

“Oh,” Baekhyun breathes out. “I see.”

Yixing nods slowly. “Yeah.”

Baekhyun turns to Junmyeon. “So I guess you knew.”

Junmyeon only nods, and doesn’t look up to look at either of them. It’s strange, but then again, they’re not really talking about apples and cherries—maybe Junmyeon isn’t comfortable with that stuff? He’s pretty reserved, after all, and though Baekhyun is convinced he doesn’t hold it against Yixing (nor would he against Baekhyun), it’s not like he can help how he’s thinking.

God knows why, really.

Baekhyun turns back to Yixing. “And how did you figure out?”

Yixing shrugs, tugging at his earlobe distractedly. “I just… I don’t know. I always knew? Deep inside. And I didn’t really… question it. It’s different for some people, you know. Figuring out they like boys or girls or both or neither. It was never a big deal for me. Especially since I like everyone,” he ends with a tiny smile.

“It’s so easy to you,” Baekhyun remarks again. He’s almost jealous.

“It should be easy for _everyone_ ,” Yixing then says, and it’s determined, like his words hold much more than what he lets on. “And I truly believe that there’s nothing wrong with love. Maybe in ten years, we’ll all be laughing at how big of a deal we make of this.”

“But right now, things are _different_ ,” Junmyeon quickly retorts, and Baekhyun startles. “This is 1989. We’ll see in 1999 if anything’s ever changed.”

“What do you mean?”

Junmyeon looks up, finally, and softens when he meets Baekhyun’s eyes. What is Junmyeon hiding? “I… I just mean to say, right now, not everyone is accepting. And that’s the way it is.”

Yeah, Baekhyun knows that. He’s pretty sure everyone knows that, because everyone somehow finds it convenient to just never talk about this stuff—so much so that Baekhyun has never really understood any part of it, or why he should even feel the guilt he currently can sense in his gut.

But there’s got to be something he can do, right? Something he can hold on to. If Yixing has seemingly come to terms with it, then surely Baekhyun can figure out his own shit, too. And surely, the people around him can, too.

“So what do _you_ think, then?” Baekhyun asks Junmyeon, who looks at him for a long time before replying.

“I don’t think anything,” is Junmyeon’s answer. It’s not said with spite, or bite, though; it’s soft, understanding. It’s a relief, to Baekhyun.

“And I think it would be okay, if, you know. You happened to be bisexual. Or gay, for that matter,” Yixing says. The smile he wears has not once faltered, though it’s gotten a little sad, for some reason. “And you and Kyungsoo are really cute, too. I’m all for it.”

“Your Korean gets fucking fluent when you talk about stuff you know nothing about, huh?” Baekhyun tries to counter, but he feels his cheeks flare up, and well—maybe it’s the reason why he’s said that in the first place, after all.

Junmyeon, next to him, chuckles. “You have no idea.”

Yixing rolls his eyes, and grabs both of their hands in each of his own. “Oh, come on. It’s not that bad. So what if Baekhyun likes Kyungsoo? Kyungsoo kissed him first anyway. I don’t see why they shouldn’t be together.”

“Because there’s like, a thousand reasons for us not to be?” Baekhyun says, enumerating them all in his head.

Parental pressure. Societal pressure. His dick probably unable to keep it in his pants and the living danger of being able to kiss Kyungsoo, all the time, holy _shit_ he wants it—

“More important than your own happiness?” counters Yixing softly. “I have yet to find a reason that would go against mine, anyway.”

Success, happiness…

And Baekhyun knows the concept in itself makes sense, and the smile Yixing isn’t losing that’s pushing him to believe his words more and more, despite the fear, despite everything. Even if they sound like wishful thinking more than anything.

“Do things really come that easily to you?” Baekhyun asks. “It’s quite impressive.”

At that, Yixing squeezes his hand, before letting go—he holds on a little longer to Junmyeon’s, as if it means something, before dropping it as well. “Nothing’s ever easy. It’s your attitude towards it that changes things. I’ve learned that a long time ago.”

“You really speak like a dad,” Baekhyun notes. “But it looks good on you. And it’s nice to hear, too.” Yixing’s words act like a comfort blanket spread over Baekhyun’s shoulders, removing weights he didn’t know existed and warming him up from the inside.

Maybe Yixing is Baekhyun’s new roof, in a way. That doesn’t make sense, but it also kind of does.

“Xing better not replace me as your fake dad, though,” Junmyeon speaks up with a corner smile. Though he’s mostly kept to himself, almost unusually so, Baekhyun is glad to hear him joke again, even if it’s not nearly as lame as it usually is.

“You can both be my fake dads, I don’t care,” he says. “As long as you don’t tell what I’ve just told you to my real one.”

Because, you know. Parental pressure, and such. One of the reasons why happiness can get a little difficult.

But Yixing’s right—if he can get something, anything, out of this kiss, out of this possibility of something more he never thought he wanted until it was offered up to him like this, then he might be crazy not to grasp it and make it his as soon as possible.

If Kyungsoo is willing, of course. If none of this is a mistake, if any of this is possible, then yes, maybe Baekhyun does want it, any part of it.

“Xing-hyung.”

“Mmh?”

“How d’you find out, though?”

Yixing’s smile dimples further, and it’s almost flirty. That’s kinda hot. “Same way you did, but the other way around. Kissed my best friend back in China when he expected it the least just because he was really cute, you know, and I had the biggest crush on him since forever, and I needed to _know_. He acted like it never happened, but, you know. Then, I knew.” He shrugs. “And then I started kissing more people. Boys and girls. Enjoyed it all.” He tilts his head. “Have you ever kissed another boy, Baekhyun?”

Baekhyun has kissed a few girls in his modest lifetime—Bae Joohyun, two years ago, and they tried dating for about a week before they found out they really just found each other pretty, and nothing else. (Bae Joohyun is a pure _delight_ , Baekhyun still thinks.) He also kissed Jung Soojung, about a year before—or more like _she_ kissed _him_ , and he happened to kiss her back—before she told him it was a dare, and though he was a great kisser and wasn’t so bad himself, she’d rather they just stayed friends. Baekhyun had shrugged it off.

There’s a few others, sure. Girls, that is. But boys? Baekhyun’s only ever kissed one boy, and that’s Do Kyungsoo.

He just shakes his head, and it means enough.

What time is it? It’s probably soon time for dinner. Baekhyun should make it home for dinner. He should get up and thank both Yixing and Junmyeon for making sense of his thoughts and helping him out with this crisis-not-so-much-of-a-crisis and just go home, and deal with the rest of it later.

Yixing has other plans. “Wanna try it out with someone else?”

Oh my _God_. Did Yixing just…

Is this for real? “I hope you’re not implying what I think you’re implying, hyung, because honestly—”

“He’s _totally_ implying what you think he’s implying,” Junmyeon counters, and he’s blushing again—oh? “And he’s _not_ gonna do it.”

Yixing shrugs. “It’s just a _kiss_ , Junmyeon-ah. I’m not asking him to be my boyfriend.” He punctuates that last word with a certain emphasis, and Baekhyun thinks of Kyungsoo. There’s butterflies erupting in his stomach, and they can fuck off. “So. Are you game?”

If Baekhyun’s game? If he’s honest, he’s noticed how handsome Yixing is—from a completely aesthetic, unbiased, appreciative point of view, of course—and wouldn’t mind kissing him. It would also help figuring out… physical things. “So you’re just gonna kiss me?”

“Kiss you and nothing else.”

Baekhyun swallows. It can’t be too different from kissing Kyungsoo, right? And he would lie to himself if he didn’t admit he enjoyed that, and more.

He licks his lips. “Just get it over and done with, hyung.”

Yixing’s smile is daring and oh so unfamiliar—but oh so attractive, Christ. “Come here, Baekhyun.”

Baekhyun leans in, and Yixing does so as well, naturally. Their lips meet for a brief moment only, and Baekhyun thinks he hears Junmyeon’s breath catch, not unlike earlier.

The kiss is short, but sweet, and tending just on that side of deep. Kissing Yixing is different from kissing Kyungsoo, Baekhyun notices—Yixing’s mouth is softer but less full, and there’s less energy to it, less desperation and something so very _Kyungsoo_ lacking to it—

Well. Maybe because Yixing is Yixing, and not Kyungsoo, and that’s enough of an answer for Baekhyun.

He pulls away, and brings his hands on his face. His skin is burning hot. “I can’t believe I’ve just fucking _kissed_ you, too.”

“So?” Yixing says, smirking still. “Got your answers?”

Kissing Yixing was great— _kissing_ , in general, is great, Baekhyun figures—and he’s definitely got some idea of what it means; but mostly, he knows that whatever he had felt kissing Kyungsoo was much more than what he’s just experienced. And yes, that’s telling enough. “Got them, yeah.”

“Alright, that’s _enough_ kissing and kiss talk for today,” Junmyeon says, a little loud. Then, he fixes Baekhyun with a telling look—though Baekhyun has a hard time reading it. “It’s almost seven, Baekhyun. We’re eating soon, here, and I think it’s soon dinner time at your place, too?”

Junmyeon’s offering him an escape, obviously, and Baekhyun will gladly take it.

“Right on, hyung,” he says. He stands up, and picks up his brother’s jacket from the floor, and turns to his two friends on the floor, who are now sitting side by side. “Xing-hyung is not coming?”

“I’m, um, staying here tonight,” he explains. “For dinner, anyway.”

“Oh, okay.” Baekhyun smiles. “And, thank you, you two. For the stuff talk. And stuff.”

Junmyeon nods slowly. “It’s… you can talk to us about this stuff, you know. Even if…” He doesn’t finish his sentence. He just shrugs.

Baekhyun chuckles. “Alright, _dad_. I’ll go, now. I think mom wants you to have some of her kimchi, though, so I might be back later, but—”

Junmyeon rolls his eyes. “Just _go_. I’ve seen enough of your chatterbox of a mouth today anyway.”

“See you, Baekhyunnie!” throws Yixing when he makes to leave. “Keep on kissing!”

Baekhyun’s laugh is loud, and appeases some of his own fears inside his heart. He steps outside moments later, clad in his jacket and shoes, and feeling much warmer than the cold air that surrounds him.

***

“Tteokbeokki?” Chanyeol asks. “We didn’t go last week. We _have_ to go this week, and eat twice to make up for it.”

Jongdae jogs up to their level—Chanyeol, Baekhyun, and Kyungsoo, though Chanyeol is obviously in the middle as Kyungsoo is… annoyingly distant. “Count me in!” Jongdae chirps, rounding his arm around Baekhyun’s shoulders. “Where’s Junmyeon-hyung? Xing-hyung?”

“Studying,” Chanyeol grumbles. “Or something. I really don’t want to think about studying right now, though.”

“We should study,” Kyungsoo says. Baekhyun’s heart is doing that _holy-shit-I-just-heard-Kyungsoo’s-voice_ thing that usually isn’t so goddamn obvious, again.

“No, we should _not_ ,” Jongdae retorts. There’s only them in the street, and they’re close to their regular restaurant, peeking from the end of the street. “Especially not you, Soo. With the amount of time you spend with your textbooks I’m starting to wonder if you even learn anything at all or if you pretend to be.”

“Oh, ‘cause _your_ frantic porn-watching sessions definitely teach you something,” Baekhyun can’t help but say. “It’s becoming an issue, Dae.”

“ _You_ can afford to say that because _you_ —” Jongdae stops himself, maybe because Baekhyun’s widened eyes have sent him the (thankfully appropriate) signal telling him to stop.

“Because?” Chanyeol prompts, and Baekhyun almost whips his head to punch him in the mouth, or something.

Because as it stands, no one knows—only Junmyeon and Yixing do, while Jongdae only knows about some mysterious kiss. Chanyeol probably has a version of events of his own, but he’s done a good job at being subtle (something he sadly does not share with Kim Jongdae). And really, Baekhyun would very much love to come clean and get Kyungsoo to talk to him—would Kyungsoo not find excuses to avoid him.

Studying. Having to clean, or to water the outdoor plants, even nearing December. And Baekhyun relents, because he can’t say no to Kyungsoo.

It’s Wednesday, and Baekhyun is more than sick of pretending nothing is wrong. Not that there _is_ something wrong—just, you know. He’d like things to go back to normal, at least. Or get more from it all, at best.

But either way, he can’t let other people openly discuss about The Kiss before Baekhyun himself gets things sorted out—so he answers Chanyeol with a wave of his hand. “What Jongdae means is that I have control on my libido. Something _he_ has yet to master.”

Jongdae scoffs, and Baekhyun maybe thinks he deserves it. “Right, alright. Anyway, enough about me, or about studying, for that matter. Let’s get that tteokbeokki without Junmyeon and Yixing, I don’t care. I’m fucking starving.”

The restaurant owner, Mrs. Choi, barely bats an eye when they take a seat at their usual table. She only counts their head as they pass the door, and Baekhyun knows she’s already got their order sorted out. Pays off to be regulars, really.

“Got any plans tonight?” Jongdae asks, swinging his legs under the bench. His legs are too short for them to touch the ground, and Baekhyun finds it ridiculously cute.

Kyungsoo’s legs don’t reach, either. It’s even cuter, in Baekhyun’s book.

Chanyeol’s legs are way too fucking long, and bump against Baekhyun’s under the table. He kicks them, as usual. Chanyeol startles, and scowls at him. Baekhyun rolls his eyes.

“Exams are coming up,” says Kyungsoo. Baekhyun’s eyes are drawn to him. He hates himself for it. “You _really_ should think about studying for them.”

“If Baekhyun doesn’t study and gets killer grades, I can too, right?” Jongdae shrugs. “What’s your secret anyway?”

Ah, there it comes. The Baekhyun-is-a-genius talk. As much as he thrives under every and any kind of attention, that’s one he often doesn’t enjoy, but has learned to deal with anyway. “I don’t eat cucumbers,” is what he says. “Screws up with your nervous system.”

“That’s bullshit,” Chanyeol snorts. “Baekhyun is just smarter than you are, Jongdae. You can come over, if you want. We have to review our Physics notes anyway.”

Jongdae whines, and doesn’t stop even as Mrs. Choi carefully sets down their order on the table. “But I don’t _want_ to study!”

Chanyeol rolls his eyes, picking up chopsticks and diving in eagerly. “Suck it up. We can do two hours of Physics and then we’ll go to the field, yes? Are you feeling up for soccer?”

Oh, God, no. Baekhyun is sick of soccer. “Do you guys ever do anything else than play soccer? Baseball exists, you know. That’s the sport of the nation.”

“Gotta side with Baekhyun on that one,” Jongdae says, jostling his shoulder. Baekhyun winks at him.

When he turns, he thinks he sees Kyungsoo look down furtively, as though he was staring. Was he staring? Baekhyun hopes Kyungsoo was staring.

“Bullshit again,” Chanyeol snorts, and there’s red sauce at the corner of his lips. Baekhyun watches as Kyungsoo hands him a napkin wordlessly. “Baseball is nothing compared to soccer.”

“Watch it, in like, ten years, it’s gonna get _huge_ ,” Jongdae replies. “I’m only studying with you if we go throw balls after.”

Chanyeol shoves a rice cake in Jongdae’s mouth in revenge, but he still says, “Fine, idiot. And we’re gonna _study_ , not watch TV. Or anything else.”

“There’s nothing on TV on Wednesdays anyway,” Baekhyun remarks distractedly. He picks up some of the tteokbeokki in the plate nearest to him. Facing him, he can see Kyungsoo is watching him, but pretends not to notice (he does notice).

And, of course, that leads him to dropping his rice cake on the table and making an absolute mess on the white table (because yes, of course, the table had to be white and make his mistake even more obvious to everyone around it).

When he hears Kyungsoo snort, though, and almost stop himself like he didn’t mean to, Baekhyun almost breaks his neck looking up—and catches Kyungsoo’s eye, enough to show off a tiny smile, and maybe, maybe time stops.

Just for a moment, though—a short moment, long enough for Kyungsoo to stare back, open and maybe slightly surprised, before he looks down. Baekhyun, however, doesn’t let disappointment grow in his stomach—no, it’s _hope_ , because Kyungsoo is smiling stupidly as he looks down and picks up a napkin, cleaning up Baekhyun’s mess wordlessly.

It’s fucking _ridiculous_ —Baekhyun shouldn’t get all shy and giddy about something so trivial—but he’s grinning just as widely and stupidly, and retreats back in his seat. _Victory_.

“What’s got you so happy suddenly?” Jongdae chuckles next to him.

Baekhyun turns to him, and hopes his cheeks don’t betray him. “Oh, nothing,” he says.

“So are you coming or not?” Jongdae says. He’s looking at Baekhyun like he’s trying to figure him out again, and Baekhyun tries to look as honest as possible.

It’s not like he’s hiding anything. Okay, yeah, he is—but he’ll come clean soon enough and it’ll be _fine_.

And Kyungsoo’s smiling at him, so really, Baekhyun’s doing just fine, thanks.

Baekhyun has no idea where he’s supposed to be coming or going to, but he still knows what to say. “Don’t count me in. I’ll study with Kyungsoo. I need his help with English, anyway.”

“Oh?” He hears Kyungsoo’s tiny voice very, very clearly. “You do?”

Kyungsoo is looking at him again with his brighter-than-possible eyes and his hopeful, hopeful spark in them. Baekhyun melts. “Yeah, I do. You’ll help me, right? I have… a bunch of questions, but you know. Should be good.”

Baekhyun is obviously not talking about English—and he knows Kyungsoo’s bright enough to catch on that.

Chanyeol too, apparently—Chanyeol, who hasn’t stopped staring at the two of them, back and forth. Baekhyun wonders if he knows he’s noticed him do that ever since two minutes ago.

“I’ll help you,” Kyungsoo says with his gravelly tone. Baekhyun smiles. “Sure.”

Chanyeol’s eyes widen, and Baekhyun wants to punch him. He should stop pretending like Kyungsoo spending time with Baekhyun is a terrible idea, especially not if it ends up with the two of them doing more of that kissing thing and—

 _Whoa_ , okay, yeah, _not_ the time to think about those things. Not yet.

Then, Jongdae asks if Junmyeon and Yixing would be down to join them in their baseball game, and if Yixing is any good at baseball at all. Baekhyun joins in at some point, distractedly—his mind is still on Kyungsoo, whom he knows has his eyes poised on him and never once leaving.

When they leave, they walk side by side. Kyungsoo doesn’t say a word.

Baekhyun is getting antsy. “Aren’t you gonna say something?”

Kyungsoo stops, and glances furtively at Jongdae and Chanyeol, a few meters ahead. The distance there is with them is growing, not that the both of them have stopped walking. “Should I be the one to say something?”

Uh. Touché.

Baekhyun shrugs. “I don’t know.”

Kyungsoo stares at him, properly, and Baekhyun stares back. He hasn’t let himself do that since that Friday, before, and he almost hates himself for it. Kyungsoo really _is_ handsome, and his lips are slightly pouting, like he’s reconsidering Baekhyun’s words—or lack thereof—and thinking of what to do next.

Baekhyun hopes it involves kissing.

“Let’s just go home,” Kyungsoo then says, turning away and walking again. “Then we’ll talk.”

***

They barely do any studying, of course. Or talking, for that matter.

Kyungsoo is at his desk and flipping through pages of his Calculus textbook, while Baekhyun is on Kyungsoo’s bed, attempting to read through his English novel. It’s going terribly. Baekhyun just wants to reach over and grab Kyungsoo’s hand and pull him on the bed with him.

Baekhyun also knows Kyungsoo is pretending, because he keeps going back and forth between the pages and never once writing down a problem in his notebook. His eyes are unfocused and resolutely staring down at his textbook without really reading. Baekhyun knows Kyungsoo’s focused face, and this isn’t what it looks like.

He’s getting tired of this. “Kyungsoo.”

“Mmh?” He doesn’t turn, doesn’t even show that he’s listening, but Baekhyun knows he is.

So it’s now or never. “Aren’t you going to kiss me again?”

 _Shitfuckshitholyshit_. It’s out there and it’s not exactly how Baekhyun had hoped it to go—he really did want to discuss everything first, and make sense of it, and there’s still time for that, of course. He just didn’t expect himself to be so blunt. But then again, he’s Byun Baekhyun. Shameless, loud Byun Baekhyun. Isn’t he?

Kyungsoo’s eyes bulge, and his pen finally stops drawing patterns in his notebook. He drops his pen, and slowly turns to look at Baekhyun. He’s still in his school uniform, and the tie around his neck is loosened, the first button of his shirt undone. He still looks proper, nice, Kyungsoo-like. Baekhyun wants to smile, and he would, were he not so fucking nervous.

“What?” Kyungsoo says, and Baekhyun groans.

“Oh my _God_ , do I have to spell it out for you, Soo?” He doesn’t know where this sudden urge to spill out everything comes from—but Baekhyun’s filters and walls are suddenly all down, barriers he didn’t even know were there in the first place, and he doesn’t think he can stop _talking_. “Why do you think I’ve kissed you back in the first place on Friday? Why do you think I didn’t take off running that day, or made a scene, or just—you _know_ me, Kyungsoo. I wouldn’t just keep quiet if something were to bother me.”

“But—”

Baekhyun knows what Kyungsoo is about to say, and sighs, closing his book and putting it aside, scooting over on the bed until his legs dangle from the edge. “But why did I not say anything? Because I didn’t know what to do, Soo! You just—you just kissed me, out of the blue, and I didn’t know what to do—I just knew I wanted it, and kissed you back, but I was confused, okay? And I think I know now I’ve always liked you and boys in general—but you’re my favourite, obviously—but I still _love_ girls and I still have to figure that out or how it makes any sense at all but anyway. What I mean is that I think—we should—I mean if you _want_ —”

Kyungsoo is kissing him.

Baekhyun gets his words cut off by Kyungsoo’s lips, and he chokes back a tiny yelp of surprise, swallowed away by Kyungsoo’s mouth.

Kyungsoo is kissing him _again_.

And Baekhyun, ecstatic, kisses him back, again—and this time, takes Kyungsoo’s face in his hands, tilts his head properly to allow for a deeper kiss, and _God_ , does this feel good. Kyungsoo is still standing, having stood up from his desk chair and gotten to Baekhyun’s level in barely two steps, but he’s climbing on the bed now, and Baekhyun has to move to accommodate him. They’re still kissing and Baekhyun smiles into it, almost explodes on the spot—and Kyungsoo is smiling too, and they’re breathless in a matter of moments, side by side on the bed.

Tiny kisses on the corner of each other’s mouth. Tiny bites of each other’s lips. A few fits of giggles escaping their throats. Baekhyun is about to cry from happiness.

He’s so fucking happy. He’d pick this over anything else, anyway—this is a success in itself, he thinks.

They eventually have to part, and Baekhyun revels in the sight offering itself in front of him—a slightly dishevelled Kyungsoo, hair askew, cheeks dark red and lips even darker, white shirt uneven across his shoulders. Baekhyun laughs.

“It’s quite effective,” Kyungsoo says, and his voice is slightly lower, more scratchy and gravelly, and Baekhyun shivers.

“What is?”

“Kissing you,” he answers, glancing down at Baekhyun’s lips before looking back up again at his eyes. “It’s a great way to shut you up.”

Flustered, Baekhyun pushes him away, but then catches his hand and starts playing with it. He sits more snuggly on the bed, leaning his back against the wall, and Kyungsoo follows him wordlessly. “Then I’ll never stop talking,” Baekhyun says. “So you can keep kissing me to make me stop.”

Kyungsoo chuckles, and Baekhyun follows him—but doesn’t say a word, and it goes quiet soon. Baekhyun is still playing with both of their fingers now, interlacing them, poking them, caressing them. It sends sparks and butterflies all across his skin and shooting through his insides.

This is so fucking great, he could do this for the rest of his life. And more kissing, obviously.

Then, Kyungsoo’s voice speaks up, shy against the silence. “Are you okay with this? With us?”

Baekhyun pulls at Kyungsoo’s hand, prompting him to look at him. “Hey. Would I ask you to kiss me again if I wasn’t?”

A lick of the lips and a tiny shrug. “You make a point, but I don’t know.”

“I literally just confessed to you, Kyungsoo. Quit being thick,” Baekhyun says. “I hate being obvious, but I was now, just for you.”

A fist collides with his shoulder, and Baekhyun yelps (for real, this time. There’s no mouth to stop him). “You’re already being a sap. Stop it.”

“God knows you’re the sappy one,” Baekhyun snorts. “I’ve seen the novels you read. Not all of them are all that serious. Do you enjoy romance for the literary aspect of it, Soo, or is it for much needed experience purposes? You know I can help with that, now that we’re—”

Kyungsoo presses one quick kiss against his lips before pulling away. He has a look in his eyes that’s absolutely entrancing, something that’s daring and begging Baekhyun to push further, just to see where it’ll take him.

“Now that we’re what?” asks Kyungsoo.

A smirk plays on Baekhyun’s lips, but he feels himself softening at Kyungsoo’s sight. “Boyfriends?”

Kyungsoo bites his lip. “Boyfriends.”

“Boy-friends,” Baekhyun repeats, punctuating each of the syllables with a poke of Kyungsoo’s nose—who scrunches it up, before batting away Baekhyun’s hands.

“But we…” Kyungsoo sighs, but he’s visibly less anxious that he was, an hour ago or two, at Mrs. Choi’s restaurant. Baekhyun finds peace in that. “Have you told… anyone?”

Ah. Right. Baekhyun kind of did get over his head and forgot about the outside world, the one that didn’t involve Kyungsoo, at least.

“Xing-hyung and Junmyeon-hyung,” he admits. He doesn’t mention the kissing Yixing part. “Did you know Yixing-hyung likes guys, too? And girls. He’s bi. I think I am, too.”

“Oh.” Kyungsoo nods. Pauses. Speaks up. “I told Chanyeol. And we pretty much figured out I’m gay.”

“Gay is cool.”

Kyungsoo snorts. “Bi is cool too. And you’re pretty decent yourself.”

“I’m a wonder of the goddamn universe, Do Kyungsoo,” Baekhyun winks, squeezing Kyungsoo’s hand. “You’re lucky to call me your boyfriend. God knows some people would die to be in your shoes.”

“Too bad for them,” he shrugs. “I got there first.”

“Lucky for me,” Baekhyun smiles, and Kyungsoo scoffs.

God, this is so nice. He feels fucking invincible, like he needs nothing more than Kyungsoo being by his side to conquer the entire world and make it his.

He could. He wants to. And with Kyungsoo’s hand in his, he thinks he just might.

“We need to study,” Kyungsoo then reminds him.

Baekhyun groans again. “Seriously? The first thing we’re about to do as a brand new couple is study? I take it back. You’re a terrible boyfriend. I’m breaking up with you.”

Kyungsoo laughs, shocked, and Baekhyun loves it—it’s one of his favourite Kyungsoo faces, after all, when he gets all wide-eyed and his pretty mouth opens up into a squished heart. “You’re already breaking up with me?”

“It was a good five-minutes relationship—no, wait, maybe eight minutes, if we count the kiss. I’ve enjoyed every minute of it, really. But if you want us to study our asses off to death then I think maybe it’s better for us to part ways. Unless you want to repent and have other ideas in mind—”

Kyungsoo is kissing him, and Baekhyun smiles into it. He’s gotten exactly what he wanted, after all.

***

From that moment on, Byun Baekhyun and Do Kyungsoo are officially, certainly, definitely dating.

Yixing and Junmyeon know—or at least, they’ve guessed it, with the way Yixing keeps winking at Baekhyun when he catches his eye and the way Junmyeon always seems to be observing them, though fondly. Chanyeol, too, knows, because Chanyeol and Kyungsoo tell each other everything.

Jongdae has yet to be told about anything, but Baekhyun will tell him in due time. He will.

They keep to themselves, most of the time, in presence of others. They tend to share a few more looks than usual and reach out for physical contact a little more—or at least Baekhyun does, because it’s in his inherent nature to do so and he simply can’t help himself now that he gets to do all these things with Kyungsoo he never thought he could allow himself to do before. Kyungsoo is a little more reserved, but it only takes four walls surrounding them for him to claim Baekhyun’s mouth and his hands and everything, and it’s absolutely _fantastic_.

Bathroom breaks are especially nice. They get a lot of mouth action done during those, and though sometimes Baekhyun hopes for more, he doesn’t think either of them is ready. But he knows it’s coming—not that it’s in any way necessary, or mandatory, or anything. It’s just something he’s eager to discover and experiment with. He’ll take his time with it, too, and be patient if need be.

But there’s also the little things—Kyungsoo now almost always waits for him to walk to school, and Baekhyun reciprocates. Kyungsoo also often forgets his scarf at home, so Baekhyun lends him his and gets to see him bundled up in it, with only the tip of his nose and wide, bright eyes poking from it, warming his insides even in the cold fall weather. They study together (as much as Baekhyun deems it useless), they watch TV together, they just… hang out more, together, as now together has an added edge to it that’s simply invigorating, to say the least.

And it’s exciting, too. Some things, especially, are terribly _exciting_.

When, the night after Chanyeol’s birthday, Kyungsoo comes to their door with a foiled plate, Baekhyun runs to the door. “I’ll take it!”

He opens the door to a startled Kyungsoo, who softens at the sight of him. Baekhyun wants to dance. “Baekhyun.”

“Soo!” Baekhyun leans against the doorframe. “What are you bringing us?”

Kyungsoo brings the plate up to his nose, and when smelling doesn’t do the job, lifts the foil delicately. “Spinach, it seems.” He looks back up. “We ran out of bean sprouts again.”

“Gotcha!” Baekhyun turns towards the hall, screaming in the too tiny space. “Kyungsoo’s mom wants bean sprouts, mom!”

“Coming! Hold the boy up at the door, won’t you! I’ve got something else for his mom, too.”

Keep Kyungsoo busy at the door? Well, _of course_ Baekhyun can do that.

He closes said door behind him, making sure not to lock it on his way out. Kyungsoo looks up to him with wide eyes. “What are you—”

Baekhyun leaves a long, deep kiss on his lips, licking his way inside Kyungsoo mouth and detaching himself from him almost as quickly as he moved forward in the first place. “Saying hi. Properly, that is.”

Kyungsoo blinks up at him, cheeks red. He looks around him, as if to check if anyone had seen. Baekhyun wants to tell him it doesn’t matter.

But then Kyungsoo turns back to him, smiling gently. “We were together almost all day today. Aren’t you sick of my face?”

“I would never.”

“I’m kinda sick of yours, though.”

Baekhyun scoffs. “Wow, alright, _sir_. Go home with your ugly spinach. You’re not getting any bean sprouts from us tonight!”

“Baekhyun-ah. Open the door, will you? I didn’t ask you to keep poor Kyungsoo outside in the cold,” his mom scolds from behind the wall, and Baekhyun relents with a roll of his eyes.

He got his kiss. That’s what matters.

Kyungsoo bows politely at Baekhyun’s mom, though she’s known him ever since he was old enough to say his own name. “Good evening, Mom.”

“Good evening, love,” she says. Baekhyun whines. She shushes him. “Here are your bean sprouts, and thank you for the spinach! You can give this to your mom, too.” She hands him another plate. “Our very own kimchi. I know how much you and Seungsoo love it,” she winks, “unlike this little one,” she adds, jostling Baekhyun’s shoulder. _Unfair_.

Kyungsoo’s smile is genuine, and Baekhyun’s heart swells. “I’ll enjoy it, Mom. Thank you so much for this.”

“Please, it’s my pleasure. And please teach your manners to his one,” she says, pulling at Baekhyun’s ear.

“Ah— _ow_ , mom, that hurt!” Baekhyun cries out, trying to move away from her grasp. She lets him off, but he still brings his hand to his hear, pouting.

Kyungsoo looks at him, and Baekhyun almost forgets about it altogether right then and there. “I’ll try my best, Mom. I know he can be difficult.”

“Tell me about it,” Baekhyun’s mom sighs. “Anyway, I won’t keep you any longer, son. Tell your mom I said hi! I haven’t seen her in forever.”

“You guys hung out, like, yesterday,” remarks Baekhyun.

His mom tuts, and pushes him into the hall. “Go inside, you! Finish your food, Mr. Byun!”

Kyungsoo laughs, and Baekhyun smiles as he waves from inside his house. “See you tomorrow, Soo!”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, big head,” Kyungsoo says, turning away and climbing up the steps. Baekhyun doesn’t stop smiling for the rest of the evening.

***

Halfway through December, Jongdae comes knocking at Baekhyun’s bedroom door.

Baekbeom is still in the room, and groans loudly. “Make him _stop_ , will you?”

Baekhyun, who’s in no better shape, moves around blindly over his covers, humming. When the knocking persists, he lets out a loud sigh, which in turn turns into a groan of his own. “Fuck off, Kim Jongdae!”

“Hey.” The voice is serious—definitely Jongdae’s, but it’s serious, and it’s not a tone that fits him. Baekhyun wakes up almost instantly. “Could we talk?”

Uh oh. Bad sign.

Baekhyun scrambles over his covers, and rubs his hands over his face. What time is it, anyway? “Coming.”

He opens the door slowly, and makes a straight line for the end of the hall, where the sink sits. He knows Jongdae is following him. He also knows why he’s there.

Things, in Baekhyun’s life, have gotten mostly wonderfully, since the Big Kyungsoo Revelation and Dating Experience. His grades keep climbing up—even if he has no idea what to do with them, all things considered. He’s grown particularly close to Yixing, lately, and spends more time with him and Junmyeon, when he isn’t busy with Kyungsoo. Chanyeol, too, seems to be a recurrent companion, especially since he doesn’t have to keep himself from commenting about everything that makes Kyungsoo Kyungsoo around him. Plus, Christmas is near, and the Parks and the Byuns always spend Christmas together, so it’s normal for him to spend more time with Chanyeol.

And, of course, there’s Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo is his boyfriend, and so Baekhyun spends a lot of time with him.

Which, in the end, leaves a little less time spent with his very best friend Kim Jongdae—whom Baekhyun still hasn’t told about, well, this Kyungsoo thing, and what it implies. Jongdae might not suspect that, but under his front hides a soft, kind heart, and the last thing Baekhyun wants is for him to feel left out—even if he has a feeling that’s exactly what he’s been doing to him, lately.

At first, Baekhyun thought it was fine—Jongdae was spending more and more time with Chanyeol anyway, and Baekhyun didn’t want to interfere. (What Baekhyun doesn’t want to admit is that he used that excuse, in his head, many times to excuse his excessive amount of time spent in Kyungsoo’s company. He hates himself for it.)

He doesn’t know what keeps him from being honest—maybe it’s the fear, maybe it’s something else. The anxiety only seems to grow as time goes by, too, and Baekhyun doesn’t understand it.

But right now, Jongdae is standing in his house, eyes uncertain and unbelievably open and vulnerable, and Baekhyun feels like shit.

“Let me clean up,” he says, bending over the sink. “Mind if I catch breakfast at your place?”

“Was gonna ask you to, anyway,” Jongdae says, voice still small but smiling, and Baekhyun takes it as something. “Hurry up, silly head.”

Baekhyun smiles, and gets ready, with Jongdae waiting outside for him.

When he comes out, eyes still a little tired and stomach rumbling, Jongdae meets him with expectant eyes. “How are you?”

Baekhyun wants to cringe. “I’m alright. You?”

“Alright.”

The sun barely makes it past the clouds in the sky. It’s so early, Baekhyun muses silently. He wonders why he’s even awake—why Jongdae is even awake, this early in the morning. He’s always been an early riser, but he’s never dragged Baekhyun to follow him in his ways.

Maybe Jongdae really just needs his best friend back, even this early during the day. Baekhyun can do that. He can be the best friend Jongdae deserves.

He yawns, and decides to break the silence when they reach the top of the stairs, with the Kims’ house just above the Byuns’. “So what’s on the menu for—”

“Baekhyun, are you gay?”

Oh, fuck. Shit. _Fuck_. This wasn’t how it was supposed to _go_.

Baekhyun was supposed to deal with a clingy Kim Jongdae—something he has already dealt with before. He was supposed to shower him with attention and spend some well-deserved time with him as two best friends—two _brothers_ —would. He would calm his guilt and fix things with Jongdae, his best friend, without bringing up things about himself; not yet, anyway.

But Jongdae seemingly decided to take the reins from Baekhyun’s hands and turn the tables, leaving Baekhyun with little to no choice but to face what he’s been dreading the most.

At Baekhyun’s prolonged silence, Jongdae scoffs, and it lacks his usual cheer. Jongdae is always cheerful. “So you _are_. And you didn’t tell me.”

“I’m not,” is what comes out of Baekhyun’s mouth first. He ponders his words. “I’m… I like both girls and guys. I’m bi.”

It’s both liberating and absolutely terrifying to let out those words. He holds his breath for a moment, focuses on the silence, on the soft wind brushing past them. His skin is still fragile from the cold water from earlier and he might get sick. He hasn’t had breakfast. He misses Kyungsoo’s hand.

He chances a look towards his best friend. Jongdae is looking at him with an odd look, but it’s not menacing, disgusted, nor is it in any way put off—only disappointed. “Alright, _Baekhyun_. Like I give a flying fuck. But you didn’t _tell me_.”

_You didn’t tell me._

Baekhyun realizes why his anxiety had been sky rocketing, lately.

Keeping something so fundamentally important about himself was probably it, in the end. He’s not used to hiding things from Jongdae— _definitely_ not Jongdae. And he’s still not sure why he did it, in the first place, but as time passed by, the thought of Jongdae ever finding out not about his secret but about his prolonged silence was definitely what scared him the most.

Baekhyun was scared of losing his best friend, and he was _this_ close to doing just what he was dreading the most.

“I—” It’s hard to find the words. “I’m sorry.”

“Like _shit_ you are, Baekhyun!” Jongdae explodes, throwing his arms in the air, exasperated, and Baekhyun knows he deserves it, wincing. “You know how I found out, at all? From _Yixing_ —who told me he was bi like a week after he got there, by the way—and I don’t even fucking remember what we were talking about but then the topic of _you_ and _Kyungsoo_ together came up and…” Jongdae sighs, loud and defeated. “I looked so _stupid_ , Baekhyun. Because I didn’t know my own best friend had a _boyfriend_ —let alone a relationship at all.”

“So that’s what it is about, then?” Baekhyun raises his tone, because he’s angry, because he’s helpless, because he doesn’t understand why he wants to cry so he just yells louder than his thoughts. “It’s about the way _you_ looked like? Because you only ever care about _girls_ and how _pretty_ they look and how hot Kang Seulgi is that you never cared about _me_!”

Baekhyun knows he’s lying, and it hurts even more when he sees it, obvious, in Jongdae’s eyes.

“That’s fucking _bullshit_ , Byun Baekhyun, and you know it,” Jongdae seethes. They’re probably going to end up waking up the entire neighborhood with their arguing. God, Baekhyun wishes they’d _stop_. “I’ve always cared more about you than anyone else— _ever_. You’re my _best friend_ , and I trust you to come to me with things. I can’t always guess what’s going on, you know that!” He sighs, deflating. “I just… Why, Baekhyun? Why didn’t you _tell me_?”

“I don’t know,” Baekhyun replies with a small voice, and he feels his eyes well up. It’s strangely comforting. “I was scared, and I know I shouldn’t—I—fuck, I really don’t know.”

Defeated, Jongdae groans. “Baekhyun, don’t cry. You know I hate it when you cry.”

“And you know I hate it when we fight, too, shithead,” Baekhyun chuckles through his tears.

Jongdae sighs, opening his arms. “Come here.”

Baekhyun goes wordlessly, fitting in Jongdae’s embrace and exhaling against his neck. It’s familiar and kind and very Jongdae-like, the Jongdae only Baekhyun gets to see, even outside like this where anyone can see them. He smiles, albeit sadly.

“Don’t be scared of me, you brat. I’m the most inoffensive prick around this block. And don’t do that again, huh?” Jongdae murmurs. The cold air barely reaches Baekhyun, in his arms, like this. “Keeping things like that from me.”

“I won’t,” he says. “I promise.”

“You’d better keep that promise, Baekhyun, or I’ll fucking chop your balls off,” Jongdae warns him, but his own voice is starting to sound wobbly. Baekhyun laughs.

“I kind of want to keep my balls.”

“Make sure you do nothing to lose them, then.”

Silence stretches between them, before Jongdae speaks up again. “So.”

“Mmh?” Baekhyun could fall asleep on Jongdae, right now, in the middle of the morning outside standing like they are. There’s something inherently soft and warm about this moment, and he could get lost in it at any rate now.

“You and Kyungsoo, huh.”

Oh. Oh no. “Shut up.”

“The kiss, at the concert, it was him, wasn’t it?” Jongdae snorts, swaying their bodies left and right where they stand. “Nice lips and big, brown, pretty eyes. You were whipped from the _start_.”

Baekhyun bites into Jongdae’s shoulder, barely strong enough for him to feel it but there nonetheless. “Don’t fucking start, Kim Jongdae.”

“Uh, excuse me? I have _every_ reason to tease you about this. You’ve kept this from me for _weeks_ , Baekhyunnie.”

“I fucking hate it when you’re right, shit.”

“That’s only because you know I am,” Jongdae snickers. He pulls away, patting Baekhyun’s back with his open palm. “Though, I never thought you’d end up gay.”

Baekhyun stares him down with a deadpan look. “First of all, I’m bi. Second of all,” he punctuates that point with a punch against Jongdae’s shoulder, walking towards his house, “I didn’t _end up_ bisexual. Pretty sure I was born bi. Or something.”

“So you’re into threesomes, or something?”

“Are you for real?” Baekhyun groans. “For God’s sake, Jongdae—”

“I’m playing! Jeez, Baekhyun, I told you Yixing told me about himself, I _know_ about this stuff,” Jongdae tuts. “You’re underestimating me.”

“You know about this stuff, huh.”

“Mmh. Though I can’t really help with, you know. The _extra_ stuff, anymore. But I’d be willing to dig further for gay porn and we can look at those together—I’d really go that far for you, you know—so you and Kyungsoo can—”

 _Oh God, no. No. Noooo, nope. No_. “Kim Jongdae, if you don’t shut the fuck up right this second, you’re the one who’s about to lose his fucking balls, I swear.”

Jongdae’s laugh is so loud in the morning, it probably wakes up the entire neighborhood, more than their conjoint yelling would have. Baekhyun thinks it rings much more nicely, too.

***

“Soo.”

“Mmh?”

“Can I get a kiss?”

“No.”

“Why? I tried the talking too much technique but now you literally just plug in your Walkman and ignore me. I tried tickling you but you ended up _punching_ me. And now I’ve been nothing but good to you—I’ve kept quiet and let you review your Chemistry problems and even answered your questions on the History homework—and you won’t even give me one tiny little kiss?”

Kyungsoo looks up from his History textbook, hair soft falling over his forehead. He’s gotten glasses, recently, and they sit low against his nose. “I can do one tiny little kiss.”

Baekhyun offers up his face, closing nearer to Kyungsoo eagerly. “Go for it, then, darling.”

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes at him, but grabs his cheeks gently, and approaches slowly with his lips. Baekhyun, ever so ready, puckers up, closes his eyes—

There’s a gentle touch against Baekhyun’s forehead, lasting one, two, three seconds, before it’s gone.

Breathless, Baekhyun opens his eyes, blinking repeatedly. He sees Kyungsoo staring down at him so _fondly_ —it warms his insides rapidly and dangerously. “A forehead kiss?”

Kyungsoo nods. “You’ll get a proper kiss if you give me one more hour. I’m almost done. Deal?”

Baekhyun bites his lip, smiling. “Deal.”

***

On December 22nd, they decide it’s alright if they go for their usual tteokbeokki outing on a Friday. Yixing is leaving for a short vacation back home, in Changsha, the next morning, and they’re miraculously all free this evening. Plus, the week before, they barely had any time to meet up—with the college exams having taken place on the 15th, this is both the first outing they’ve had in a while, and the last they can spend with all six of them together.

The exams went well, for the most part, Baekhyun thinks. The English portion might have fucked him over, and he might be worried about it, as it takes up 60 points of the entire thing, but, really, he’s fine.

And now is not the time to worry about that, anyway.

“ _Merry Christmas, fuckers!_ ” yells Jongdae, standing up on the bench, jostling an already sleepy Chanyeol. If anyone would see him, they might suppose he’s drunk, or at least, under the influence of something—but Baekhyun and everyone else around the table knows it’s just the effect of keeping Kim Jongdae out of the house past nine in the evening.

“Jongdae! Get the _fuck_ off that table, you absolute asshole, oh my God,” Chanyeol wheezes, laughing through his panic. It’s usually Junmyeon’s job, but it’s as though their roles got reversed for an evening.

With his ankles now under Chanyeol’s grip, Jongdae wobbles on the bench, and of course, yells louder in consequence. Baekhyun is fucking _losing_ it. “Hey! Let go of me, you idiot, I’m gonna lose my teeth if I fall because of you! I’m gonna make you pay my hospital fees, just you watch!”

Kyungsoo, warm and solid next to Baekhyun, is crying tears of laughter, his face scrunched up cutely in a smile so big it paints his entire face. The shape of it is the most endearing thing, really—it’s Baekhyun’s favourite thing after all—and the way he looks incredulous at the mere thought of laughing.

Or maybe it’s just because Chanyeol is holding Jongdae’s ankles like his life depends on it, and Jongdae is throwing a tantrum, standing on the bench of their favourite table at their favourite tteokbeokki restaurant.

Baekhyun brings his arm around Kyungsoo’s shoulders, who leans in without saying a word. Things have always been easy like this between the two of them, but those little instances have grown exponentially more frequent and even more… _meaningful_ , in a simple matter of weeks. It also helps that their circle of friends is wonderfully accepting, and though they try not to put on a show every so often, it helps that the both of them are so cute—Baekhyun knows they are, obviously—and so they manage to get away with a lot of PDA.

Jongdae finds it gross, sometimes, but then he smiles at Baekhyun proudly and Baekhyun rolls his eyes at him and it’s nice.

Facing Baekhyun, Junmyeon smiles into his drink—with no alcohol, because even if Junmyeon can afford to drink both with his legal age and his wallet, he doesn’t appreciate losing control over his limbs, or so he says. Yixing, next to him, is smiling so fucking big his eyes are lost into two tiny slits, his mouth taking all the space on his face.

Baekhyun is pretty certain they’re holding hands under the table, even for instants of only a few seconds at a time. He vows to ask Junmyeon (or Yixing) about it later.

“Oh,” suddenly says Jongdae. Eyes wide, he stops, jumps down to the floor and plumps down on the bench. “You know what we should do?”

“Go home? Please?” Chanyeol pleads. He rubs a hand over his face. “I’m fucking exhausted, Jongdae, _please_ —”

“We should hold a countdown to midnight!” Jongdae exclaims. Baekhyun snorts, Kyungsoo laughs harder, and Yixing is clapping his hands so hard they’re probably bright red from it. “Since Xing-hyung won’t be there for New Year’s, we should just recreate our own New Year’s now! I’m a fucking _genius_ , I know.”

“Are you sure that was water and not soju?” Junmyeon giggles. “You’ve completely lost it, Dae. It’s only ten in the evening.”

“Who cares if the time’s all wrong, it’s the thought that counts.” Jongdae rolls his eyes. “Come on! At 10:04, I want you all fucks to be screaming the hell out. Count down with me!”

_Ten!_

Chanyeol groans, repeatedly punches Jongdae’s shoulder who only laughs at his demise and claps excitedly on his seat.

_Nine!_

Junmyeon decides to steal Chanyeol’s plate, and dives in, smiling and giving a piece to Yixing when he opens his mouth.

_Eight!_

Kyungsoo is still laughing, next to Baekhyun. “Is this really happening?” he asks, eyes still teary and so bright Baekhyun smiles despite himself.

_Seven!_

“I guess it is, yeah. Can I get a New Year’s kiss?”

_Six!_

“Hey! You two! No coupley shit allowed, this is for Xing-hyung!” Jongdae belts, and Baekhyun pulls his tongue at him.

_Five!_

Yixing is completely into it. He’s got his eyes looking up excitedly at the clock, hands clapping at every count, and Baekhyun’s afraid the smile he’s sporting is actually gonna split his face in half.

_Four!_

Baekhyun puckers up his lips. “Pretty please?”

“You know you’re getting a kiss for New Year’s anyway,” answers Kyungsoo, but he’s smiling and looking at Baekhyun’s lips and not his eyes. He’s won the game, Baekhyun knows it.

“I want it now, too.”

_Three!_

“Get fucking ready!” shouts Jongdae. How hasn’t Mrs. Choi kicked them out yet?

_Two!_

Yixing has his eyes closed, and Junmyeon has his arm around his waist. Baekhyun winks at him from across the table, but then he feels Kyungsoo’s hand on his thigh—

_One!_

Kyungsoo pulls him in, and kisses him. Baekhyun smiles into it, and doesn’t even care if anyone’s staring.

_Happy fake New Year, dear friends!_

***

“The table’s ready, mom!” Chanyeol says from his living room. Next to him, Baekhyun is still fixing up the chopsticks at the right of every plate, because Christmas is _special_ and everything has to be _perfect_ and so if he’s in charge of setting the table, well. The table, in turn, has to be _per-fect_.

“Not quite!” he says.

Chanyeol groans, pulling at the hem of Baekhyun’s sweater. “Oh, leave it, Baekhyun. You know as soon as Baekbeom-hyung sits at his seat he’s gonna mess everything up just with the way he moves.”

Chanyeol is right. Baekhyun’s brother tends to be a moving hazard—a bit in the way Baekhyun is, except while Baekhyun’s movements are calculated and gracious as much as they never stop, Baekbeom resembles more a caveman. He’s too big, takes too much place, and pretty much messes up everything he touches.

From the kitchen, both Chanyeol’s mom and Baekhyun’s are yelling indiscernible words to them, their voices pitched high and muffled by the walls.

Chanyeol raises an eyebrow. “Did you catch any of that?”

Baekhyun shrugs. “Not a word.”

“TV?”

“Let’s go.”

It’s not any different from any other Christmas at the Parks (which, for a long, long time, has also welcomed the Byuns, so it’s more of a Park-Byun Christmas, to the joy of Baekhyun and Chanyeol and their respective mothers). The TV is on, where everyone is seated and is watching the holiday specials airing on every main channel. Baekhyun’s father tends to change it too often, and Chanyeol’s dad is too happy to have company to actually be bothered (unlike Chanyeol, whom Baekhyun can see squirming whenever his dad’s fingers reach the TV box).

Junmyeon, Jongdae, and Kyungsoo are all out of town, visiting their respective families. Junmyeon’s family isn’t Christian, but they still meet up around the holiday season, just because it makes for an occasion to do so.

Yoora helps with the cooking, and Baekhyun and Chanyeol, with the other smaller chores. Baekbeom tries to help; and as much as Baekhyun’s mom tends to send him off to fetch gas or wood when they’re running out just to get him away from the kitchen, he always comes back, hovering, unsure what to do.

So, yes—it’s really not any different from any Christmas they’ve ever spent before. Baekhyun likes to see it as a comforting tradition, the way things always go the same way. Plus, to mix things up once every year, he’s noticed the Park couple never buys the same brand nor type of alcohol for the evening. So far, raspberry wine holds the title as the most devastating liquor his parents have ever had their hands on, as far as Baekhyun can remember—and he does _not_ need to be reminded as to _why_ , thank you very, _very_ much.

“Do you miss Kyungsoo?” asks Chanyeol, at dinner, when the adults are too busy talking about adult things and have finally, finally left them alone regarding their exams. Baekhyun doesn’t need to be reminded, especially not on _Christmas_.

With the lull in the conversation that thankfully doesn’t involve the two of them, he welcomes Chanyeol’s question eagerly—especially as it involves Kyungsoo. “Terribly,” he says, slurping his noodles. “I’m going to disintegrate from Sappy Boyfriend Syndrome.”

He’s glad no one’s actually listening to the two of them. He’s stopped being careful as time went by, but he wouldn’t like word to get out without him having some sort of control on the situation. Christmas dinner at the Parks is not the ideal situation.

Chanyeol smiles. “You guys are kind of cute.”

“Only kind of? _Please_ , Chanyeol. We’re the pair of the century.”

A dimple appears in Chanyeol’s cheek when his smile grows more pronounced—and softer, too. “I’ve never given you the big bad best friend talk, now that I think about it.”

“Well, it’s not like Jongdae did, either.”

“He did.”

Baekhyun stops, turns with wide eyes to Chanyeol. Did Jongdae _really_? Oh dear. “You’re fucking with me.”

“Nope. Kyungsoo told me about it.” He raises an eyebrow at Baekhyun. “He didn’t to you?”

“He—I mean—Jongdae probably threatened him not to.”

“Nah, he made Kyungsoo promise,” Chanyeol waves him off. He reaches out, drops extra kimchi on Baekhyun’s plate and some for himself too. “I thought Kyungsoo would, once in his life, break a promise for you, but, guess not.”

“Wow, way to belittle his feelings for me,” Baekhyun mutters. He lifts his eyes, and catches Baekbeom’s across the table. Baekhyun pulls his tongue at him. Baekbeom stares a little longer, spaced out, before smiling down at his plate.

Did Baekbeom hear anything? Baekhyun wonders. At least he’s not making a scene.

“I can’t believe Jongdae didn’t say a word either,” he adds, moving the plate of cucumbers to Chanyeol’s side. Gross.

“Like you’re really surprised about that,” Chanyeol snorts. Then, a few moments later with a more serious tone, he says, “I think I’ve already said what I wanted to tell you, though. So no big bad best friend talk from me.”

“Oh?” Did Chanyeol once tell him off and Baekhyun simply doesn’t recall? It wouldn’t be the first time it happens, but usually, when Kyungsoo is involved, Baekhyun’s memory doesn’t fail him.

“Mmh,” Chanyeol nods. “Remember the concert?”

Baekhyun stops eating, and thinks. Oh, does he _remember_ the concert. He remembers Lee Moonsae on stage and his favourite song playing with a too messy yet perfect kiss taking place, and he remembers vaguely about an uncomfortable ride home, and the alley, plunged in the dark, with Chanyeol’s words ringing clearly across the walls in the open air.

“Don’t ruin things,” Baekhyun recalls. _I know you won’t, but…_ “I didn’t, now, did I?”

Chanyeol smiles at him, and reaches up to ruffle his hair. “No, you didn’t. You’re as smart as you look, Baekhyunnie.”

Baekhyun doesn’t say anything to that, but he feels warm, and trusted, and though he misses Kyungsoo terribly—he’s never letting him leave town again, ever—he thinks things aren’t so bad, after all.

***

Baekhyun sits in the middle of his bedroom. The letter, which came the same morning, sits in front of him, opened and glaring at him from the ground, mocking him.

 _Fuck_ this shit, honestly.

He’s not even sad, or disappointed, or worried—he’s just fucking frustrated, and annoyed. He’s put so much effort into this fucking thing—and Baekhyun’s scores are still to die for, is the thing—but the letter on the ground seemingly says otherwise, because having “ _impressive_ ” scores isn’t enough when they’re missing the two or three points to get the fucking scholarship he applied for and everyone thought he was meant to obtain.

Baekhyun isn’t sad, nor disappointed, nor worried—he’s just pissed off, and angry, because this was the only goal he set himself, and didn’t even stop to consider what he would do, were he to fail. With his grades, sure, he can get anywhere—SNU would welcome him with open arms, surely, if they didn’t have a look on his parents’ banking account.

The Byuns aren’t exactly _rich_. They can’t afford to send a second son to university without a scholarship. Even if their son doesn’t even want to go to college, it’s still the one thing Baekhyun can do for them, the one thing he was meant to do for them.

He bites his bottom lip so he doesn’t cry. He feels so fucking empty.

Baekhyun has no idea how much time passes, but he doesn’t expect it when a hand lands on his shoulder, its touch kind and warm through his shirt. “Baekhyun-ah.”

He looks up and watches as Kyungsoo sits next to him, closing the door behind him. Wordlessly, he takes Baekhyun in his arms, and starts carding his fingers through his hair. It’s growing long. He should cut it.

“I’m not sad,” he tells Kyungsoo, because it’s true.

“I know,” Kyungsoo sighs, and Baekhyun believes him. His mother pities him, his brother tells him it’ll be alright, his father says they’ll figure it out; it all feels like they’re lying, but Kyungsoo, he _understands_ , and doesn’t bother pretending.

“This isn’t—this isn’t fucking fair,” Baekhyun continues, even if he knows it kind of is fair. He just wasn’t good enough. “I was meant to get this.”

“I know,” repeats Kyungsoo. He tightens his arms around Baekhyun’s figure, and Baekhyun burrows deeper into him, nuzzling at his neck and breathing his smell from there. It’s comforting.

“Kyungsoo.”

“Mmh?”

“Where am I headed?”

It’s a question that haunts his head far too many times a day, and one that has not left him since he opened that fucking letter this morning. It feels like Baekhyun is left with absolutely nothing, even if he knows there’s a way for him to get into university still and get it somehow funded and for his predestined path to still work out, one way or another.

It’s just, with this possibility being stripped away from him, he’s not sure he even wants it at all, or if he ever even wanted it in the first place. He’s not sure if doing this for someone other than himself—as much as he loves his parents and would die for them—is the way to go anymore, especially not if it’ll cost his family more than they can afford to send him somewhere he doesn’t even want to be.

“Where do you want to go?” Kyungsoo asks, his voice ever so soft. It’s low and barely elevates above a whisper. Baekhyun closes his eyes.

“Not university,” are Baekhyun’s first words. “Not yet. I’m not… I’m not made for places like that.”

“Then where?”

Where does Baekhyun want to go? “I could start with China, get Yixing to be the guide. And then the United States. Go up to Canada. Cross the Atlantic to Europe; stop by England, then Spain, France, Germany, Italy… and eventually, come back home. If I feel like it.”

“That’s going to take you forever,” Kyungsoo remarks, his voice holding a smile.

“I could try still,” Baekhyun continues. It doesn’t hurt to dream a little, right? Plus… “Time goes by in a flash, when you’re with the one you love.”

Kyungsoo chuckles around him. “You want me to come with you?”

It thrills Baekhyun, when Kyungsoo recognizes himself as the man Baekhyun _loves_ —though he’s never said The Three Words—because it only shows how much Kyungsoo _understands_ , and definitely how much he reciprocates.

“Why not?” Baekhyun pulls away, looks at Kyungsoo straight in the eyes, lost scholarships and parental burdens forgotten. Kyungsoo’s eyes are staring at him fondly, lovingly, but there’s something more serious behind them. “Of course you’ll come with me. I can’t travel the world on my own.”

“But I have to stay,” Kyungsoo says. “I have… school, and university, eventually, and—”

Baekhyun waves him off, and leans in to steal a kiss, cutting off Kyungsoo’s words. “None of that serious bullshit,” he murmurs. “I’m just saying. For as long as you’ll have me, I’ll always want to be anywhere _with you_. So if I ever take off running and travel the planet, I’m sorry, but you’ll have to follow. I warned you already about this.”

“It was different back then—”

Another kiss to shut him off, and Kyungsoo, this time, giggles. Baekhyun smiles, worries completely dissipated. His boyfriend is some kind of magician. “Maybe circumstances were different, but I’m pretty sure my feelings were the same. If not, like, buried deep inside.”

“And now you get to kiss me as you please—”

Smack on the lips, Baekhyun smiles against Kyungsoo’s mouth. “Yes.”

Another fit of giggles. “And hold my hand—”

 _Smooch!_ “Mmh-hm.”

“Stop with the kissing, that’s my thing!”

“Oh, because now _you’re_ the only one who gets to decide who kisses who?” demands Baekhyun indignantly—though his smile is betraying him, and he can feel laughter bubbling out of his throat.

Kyungsoo hums with a nod. “Yep. Exactly.” Then, he frames Baekhyun’s face with his hands, and kisses him—properly, deeply, lovingly.

And Baekhyun kisses him back, humming into it, feeling the last of his anxiety melt away. It still remains somewhere, dark and staining his mind, but it’s mostly gone, and kissing Kyungsoo is proving to be much more interesting and helps a ton with… everything.

When they part, Baekhyun sighs. Kyungsoo pushes his thumbs into his cheeks, making them puff out. “Are you feeling better?”

“Much better,” Baekhyun admits. “But don’t remind me, though. Or I’ll be miserable again. And then you’ll have to kiss me for the rest of eternity for me to forget.”

Kyungsoo smiles, gums showing and eyes turning into half-moons, his voice low and adoring. “I wouldn’t mind doing that.”

“Even if it’s forever?” Baekhyun really doesn’t mean the weird double meaning his words suddenly get—he knows they can both feel it in the air—but it’s out there now, and he can’t take them back.

And it’d be absolutely ridiculous, for either of them, to take those words seriously. All things considered, despite how long they’ve known each other, this love or whatever it is they share is still so new, so naïve and bubbling with innocent excitement, that words like _forever_ and _eternity_ can’t really hold a real, or even any meaning.

But Baekhyun is willing to bet that if any kind of love (or whatever it is) on this planet is special, it’s theirs. He’s ready to bet that if anyone would dare say those words that speak of something much, much powerful than anyone could ever understand, it’s the two of them.

“Even if it’s forever,” Kyungsoo then confirms, and Baekhyun, wholeheartedly, believes him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you've made it up until this point, a thousand times thank you <3


End file.
